


there you are, and I run

by demi_god



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, F/M, Humor, M/M, Magic, Triwizard Tournament, Witches and Wizard AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demi_god/pseuds/demi_god
Summary: The Steo Hogwarts!AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 35
Kudos: 59
Collections: Steo Spooktober





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Totally self-indulgent fic. This was meant to just swim in my head until I get over it, but since it's written, I might as well just share it. It also happens to check out a prompt for SteoSpooktober (Halloween) so... that's a sign, I guess? 
> 
> Disclaimer: TW and Harry Potter are not mine, but the mistakes you may find in the fic are (flawed to the core, what can I do)
> 
> Anyway, here goes nothing.

**_October 30th_ **

Usually, Stiles loved Halloweens at Hogwarts. Decorated all over the Great Hall and Common Rooms were all sorts of Halloween-themed adornments - sweets-filled pumpkins, floating jack-o'-lanterns with varying sizes from ' _aww so cute_ ' to ' _Merlin's big balls!_ ', live bats, orange streamers, eerie candles, and the enchanted ceiling made to adapt to the occasion. Filling the tables were different Halloween treats like pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, treacle tarts, licorice wands, butterbeer cookies, etc. He also loved receiving treat bags from his father and Mrs. McCall even now that he was of age at seventeen and on his final year at Hogwarts.

He should be enjoying his last Halloween. However, that was impossible considering the dire circumstances of his situation.

This year, on Stiles's final year at school, Hogwarts was going to host the Triwizard Tournament: an inter-school magical competition that was friendly but consisted of three dangerous tasks to test the champions' abilities. Which meant, delegates from the two other prominent wizarding schools were coming to Hogwarts and would be staying the entire year for the competition. Which suggested Stiles would be seeing and cohabiting with students from Durmstrang Institute. Which indicated, what with Stiles's brand of luck, he could be seeing his summer hook-up any minute from now. That did not bode well for Stiles.

It wasn't like they'd had a relationship - which was the problem, you see? Stiles had only seen the guy twice before, the second one being just last summer when he and his dad bought tickets - _ridiculously overpriced tickets_ \- for the Quidditch World Cup that only happened every four years. His dad worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror (the magical equivalent of the muggle police), and the guy, Theo's, parents worked for the Wizengamot Administration Services (the wizarding high court of law). Their parents knew each other from work and so had introduced their sons to one another for the first time in the same significant sports event but four years prior.

However, unlike four years ago when Stiles was thirteen and his bisexuality dormant, the second time they crossed paths, Stiles was seventeen and very aware of how gorgeous of a specimen Theo Raeken had become. Now, Stiles wasn't anywhere near as attractive as Theo, but the guy had shown mutual attraction. So, stupidly and as expected, Stiles had put out that summer.

After that night, he decidedly ignored Theo's correspondence. The guy had sent a couple of owls (the wizarding message delivery outlet), but after not receiving anything in return, had stopped his efforts. Stiles shouldn't have been disappointed because he was the one that cut off communication. But the quick surrender only proved something to Stiles: he was not worth the chase. Stiles didn't even read the letters because Stiles wanted to shield himself from more embarrassment in case Theo's letters had contained his regrets for what had transpired between them, or maybe asked if Stiles could be his summer booty call. Or told Stiles he was a terrible lay - which Stiles doubted because Theo had looked thoroughly debauched afterward, and - _woah_ \- stop. Thinking about Theo's utterly satisfied, post-coital look wasn't helping Stiles's crisis at all.

Whatever the case was, Stiles had concluded to better forget about that night. After all, they might not even see each other in four years, right? He only told his best friend, Scott, about it. But he didn't have to worry about Scott blabbering because he was too preoccupied with his relationship. Besides, Scott also promised, and this was one thing he liked about Gryffindors, they stand by their words - most of them, at least. Stiles could claim he was succeeding in his quest to cleanse his memory of his one-night-stand until, of course, the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament.

Now, months later, he might see Theo again. Had Stiles mentioned it did not bode well for him? 

He was biting the nail of his thumb, lost in agitation when the students crowding the hallway's open arch-windows overlooking the sea began shrieking excitedly, pointing in the distance.

Scott grabbed his arm to get his attention. His eyes were wide with awe, "Look, dude!"

Stiles followed his finger and first saw the gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn Beauxbatons carriage, pulled through the air by elephant-sized palominos. And then, right in the middle of the sea, a magnificent ship rose out of the water in loud splashing noises. Its wrecked glory was dim and ghostly under the moonlight and only magnified Stiles's feelings of doom and peril.

The Durmstrang ship glided toward the bank with the grace of a predator stalking its prey. It felt baneful and obtrusive. And Stiles, being the adrenaline-junkie that he was, found himself abuzz with exhilaration.

Stiles shouldn't be - and he was extremely disappointed and mortified with himself, just for the record - but his insides were traitorously stirring in anticipation for any, if at all, kind of game Theo would initiate. Stiles knew, even then, that he would play it.

***

Everyone gathered in the Great Hall, chattering and laughing with themselves, discussing among peers what they assumed were subtle exchanges of rumors about their guests. Stiles thought it was rude to talk about their visitors behind their back, but it wasn't a small affair meeting students from different wizarding schools, sharing space, and even competing with them.

The Triwizard Tournament wasn't an annual or a casual event. The last one happened in 1994, twenty-three years back, and a Hogwarts student lost his life in the final task. The death of the Hufflepuff decreed another suspension of the games, until now. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly when he noticed the movement of a parchment passed around in the Gryffindor table to the other side of the hall. They had already started a betting pool. When Stiles transferred his eyes from Gryffindor, he could also see that even the Ravenclaws in the next table were suspiciously handing a single tray of pumpkin pie from one student to another without taking a slice. He watched as one student received the tray, tapped their fingers underneath it, and then passed it onto another one. Okay, so Stiles would admit their system was genius, which _duh_ , and much stealthier than the Gryffindors. Merlin, they weren't even trying for hush-hush.

Stiles just hoped they weren't betting on someone possibly dying from the competition because that would be morbid and completely out-of-line. Not that Stiles believed anyone could open a pool for that and not receive a profound beating. When Stiles checked the Hufflepuff table beside theirs, they didn't appear to be doing anything under-the-table. It was probably out of respect since it was their House that suffered the loss previously.

His thoughts were interrupted when Scott sidled in the space beside him. One of Stiles's younger housemates, who was jostled in her seat by Scott's visit, gave him stink-eye and moved further to the side with a grumble. Scott, bless him, did not notice and focused on Stiles. 

"Are you going to put your name in the Goblet?"

Honestly, Stiles hadn't decided yet, but he considered it, of course. The monetary prize was enormous and would help the Stilinski household immensely. He could even give a percentage to Scott and Melissa. Stiles could put a small sum in his Gringotts (their wizarding bank) account for emergencies. They weren't poor, no. Stiles's dad had provided for both their needs well, even if it was only him working his ass off. However, Stiles wasn't as oblivious as his father had hoped he would be about the staggering amount they still owe St. Mungo's Hospital from during his mother's lengthy stay and succumb to the disease. His father had been doubling his work effort, and nine years had passed since then, but Stiles's dad had only managed to dent a little over half of the amount. The hospital had been forgiving and patient, which Stiles was thankful for, but still, 1000 galleons could settle a month of the required payment and would afford his dad a little luxury.

But what was a month of paid debt if Stiles ended up dead, right? 

Now, Stiles hoped he could say that the prize money was his only reason for wanting to enter, but no. He was in Slytherin despite having Gryffindor-parents because of a few reasons. One was him being an ambitious daredevil - a glory seeker. He might not be as confident, but he was just as pride-driven as every single Slytherin. 

He fell into bed with a Durmstrang boy, someone Stiles knew was raised and equipped in the Dark Arts, because he had shown interest in Stiles. Theo's attraction stroked Stiles's ego, and not only his libido had been satiated by sleeping with him, but so was his lust for danger. Loathed as he was to admit, it was also his fear of damaging said ego that prevented him from reaching out to Theo again. 

Stiles wasn't wealthy or with monumental ability. Sure, he was a decent seeker for Slytherin's Quidditch team, and maybe not that bad in the aesthetics department, but that was it. Theo, on the other hand, was descended from a line of influential family. People feared them because of their affiliations with Dark Magic, but that didn't dampen the prestige of their name. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum, and so what would he want from Stiles, right, aside for a temporary bed-warmer? Stiles loved trouble, but he could not face rejection. So Stiles usually measured the risk and the chance of winning. If the tip of the scale were on the wrong side, he would turn tail and run. And no, it wasn't cowardice, but self-preservation.

Scott scrambled back to the Gryffindor table when Professor Talia Hale, Hogwarts' Headmistress, stood on the owl-shaped podium and addressed the students for the Welcome Feast. 

"Now, that we've all settled in, I'd like to make an announcement," Professor Hale began. "This year, Hogwarts would be hosting a legendary event as you have already known on the Start-of-the-Term Feast. For all of those who don't know, the Triwizard Tournament is a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of magic: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. I'll explain more about the tournament later. For now, join me in welcoming the students of _Beauxbatons Academy of Magic_ and their Headmistress, Madam Marin Morell."

The door of the Great Hall opened, and about two dozen students poured in wearing their school's light blue, knee-length silk dresses for the ladies, and light blue button-up, classic collared shirt under a light-blue blazer and pants, with dark blue necktie for the gentlemen. They strutted the floors of the Great Hall in a perfect picture of sophistication. They glanced to the side and gave small, but comely smiles to the gaping students. These people were stunning. They began gliding sideways like ballerinas, light blue butterflies flying out of their clothes, but not a single blue hat fell from their heads. They curtsied and bowed upon reaching the end of the hall and proceeded to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

A beautiful, dark-skinned woman walked at the tail of their procession. Madam Morrell, Stiles assumed. She was walking down the hallway as if she owned it; her head held high, and eyes straight forward. Madam Morell could cut glass with how sharp her eyes looked. When she reached Professor Hale, the Headmistress pressed their cheeks and escorted the visitor to a seat among the Hogwarts' staff and professors in the High Table. 

Professor Hale went back behind the podium as Madam Morell arranged herself in the seat to the right of the Headteacher's throne chair. "And now, our friends from the north. Please greet the students from _Durmstrang Institute_ and their High Master," Professor Hale paused and smiled wryly. "My brother, Peter Hale."

Stiles tried to distract himself with the information that a Hale was teaching Dark Arts in Durmstrang while another Hale was teaching _Defense Against_ the Dark Arts here in Hogwarts. What a funny, curious, coincidence. 

However, he couldn't pull away from the force that made him turn his attention to the entryway when the door opened again for the Durmstrang delegates. He wasn't sure that Theo would be among them, but Stiles didn't have to wonder any longer, as well. The door revealed fierce-looking students in fur cloaks, fur hats, and blood-red robes. There, at the very front, leading the band of about two dozen students like Beauxbatons, was Theo. 

Since Stiles's luck was not much nowadays, it also so happened that Theo even looked better now. As if Stiles needed more torment.

He centered his thoughts on the rhythmic snapping of their wooden staffs against the floor, creating live friction, and then the subsequent whooshing as they rotated the shafts in a series of circular movements. They looked like the angriest, most ferocious baton-twirlers Stiles had seen.

And then Theo broke into a sprint halfway from the hallway, back-flipped three times, before landing on his feet with a handsome finesse, facing the students. He brandished his staff in the air again, spun it in a quick, intricate pattern, and finished by slamming the wood on the floor hard enough to create a flame that danced for a second before vanishing.

If Stiles found himself out of breath after the display, he, at least, hoped he wasn't too obvious about it. With a quick sweep of his eyes, he was relieved to find that he wasn't the only one slack-jawed. 

The other Durmstrang students followed Theo in front, also finishing with a slap of their staffs, as their High Master - a younger and male version of their Headteacher - Peter Hale, reached the podium and kissed the hand of his sister. They exchanged an easy greeting as the two walked to the High Table for the feast.

To put up on top of Stiles's pile of misfortune, the Durmstrang delegation by tradition also shared the Slytherin table on their visits. He swore and turned to the table, hunching his back and doing his best to disappear as the red-robed students made their way to Stiles's table.

Malia, one of his classmates and housemates, frowned at him from across the table. "What the hell are you doing?"

He was bending so much that his nose was almost touching the tart sitting on his plate, and yeah, he must have looked ridiculous. He rubbed the back of his neck and snorted a high-pitched chuckle, "Wha- _nothing_. I just," he waved his other hand in meaningless gestures. "I like the smell of the tart, you know. It's so, uh, _lemony_."

Malia looked unconvinced and unimpressed.

Durmstrang students began occupying the vacant spaces in the long table, mostly beside each other, but a few broke off from their group to mingle with Stiles's housemates. He prayed to Merlin he was unremarkable enough not to warrant anybody's attention. Yes, he enjoyed getting into trouble. Yes, Theo turned him on. But no, he wasn't anywhere near prepared to be around the fire again. Stiles had suspected Theo would be one of them, but the Slytherin didn't try to practice a proper speech in front of the mirror in case. He would just embarrass himself, knowing his track record. He -

"Stiles,"

\- promptly straightened and froze. _Oh god, what do I do, what do I do?_ It wasn't the right time for his brain to short-circuit, goddamnit! Stiles sucked in a breath and schooled his features to that of an impassive expression. He peered over his left shoulder and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Hey,"

The boy inclined his head, "May I sit beside you?" He almost sounded shy, which Stiles found ludicrous because Theo was anything but timid.

Before he could respond, though, someone had beat him to it. "Of course, _smokin_ ' Durmstrang boy," Erica, also in Stiles's year, appeared and bodily maneuvered Theo onto the seat beside Stiles before dropping herself on the other side. The same girl Scott had jostled earlier grumpily exhaled as she scooted again. Unlike Scott, Erica was aware of the reaction but didn't care. Stiles wanted to comment about bullying their lower years, but he was too preoccupied with the press of Theo's thigh against his. "You may sit between Stiles and me."

Theo looked startled and uncomfortable for a second but quickly recovered when Erica extended her hand with a bright grin. "My name's Erica, Stiles's favorite housemate."

"I beg to differ," Stiles grumbled under his breath, facing his plate and picking on the contents with his fork. It was apparent then that Erica was adamant about hogging Theo's attention when she bombarded him questions after questions to which he politely responded. 

It didn't matter; Stiles had wanted to hide from him in the first place. And though Theo found him, it was Erica that was enjoying his company, which, as mentioned, _didn't matter_. It was the next best thing after hiding - being utterly disregarded - and Stiles made sure not to look too annoyed while at it.

Anyway, the entire time he was in a conversation with Erica and his other housemates that joined in eventually, Theo didn't move his thigh away. He pressed even closer.

***

"A champion is selected to represent each school to compete in three magical tasks," Professor Hale said later when the plates have been cleared, continuing where she left off earlier regarding the Triwizard Tournament.

Stiles was seated sideways, pointedly training his eyes ahead to the Headmistress, and ignoring the way he was practically in between Theo's legs. The Durmstrang boy had faced in front, too, but lifted his other leg to straddle the bench and pushed himself forward. He had all but turned his back on Erica, which made Stiles feel unreasonably smug.

Stiles was hyper-aware of Theo's breath on his nape, and the overall heat his body was emitting. It was like Theo had draped himself over Stiles the way he was feeling electrified. A hand sneaked to touch his hip tentatively, and it took much of Stiles's self-control not to move back and bare his throat to the boy. Merlin's beard, it took all of two hours. But if Theo was still interested - and it seemed the case because Stiles could feel Theo's eyes drilling a hole at the back of his head - then it was as well that Stiles didn't deny himself. He consented to the touch by relaxing his rigid back, and the pressure on his hip increased at the assurance. Stiles was so fucked. 

"-are chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire." Professor Hale pressed on. She pointed the tip of her wand on the jeweled casket strategically placed in the usual spot of the Headmistress's Owl Lectern for everyone to see. The encasement slowly opened and disappeared in magical sparks to reveal a wooden goblet. It looked ordinary, larger than a usual water goblet, but its appearance didn't belie the hum of magic it emanated in the hall. And then, blue flames erupted from the mouth of the goblet, casting the Headmistress's face in lukewarm blue light.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," The Headmistress instructed. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."

The students began murmuring in anticipation. Professor Hale smiled indulgently and added, "Now let me remind everyone that there will be an Age Line surrounding the goblet to ensure the mandated age restriction of the aspiring champions. Meaning, only those seventeen and above may put forth their entry."

An indignant chorus of complaint from the younger students replaced the excited chattering. Professor Hale kept her generous expression as she resumed with final words. 

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion is selected, it is an obligation to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you have prepared yourself to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

***

**_October 31st - Halloween_ **

The first thing Stiles did after coming up from the Slytherin dungeons was to drop a slip of parchment with his name onto the goblet by the entrance hall. The flames turned red as it accepted his entry. He stepped back and smiled in satisfaction.

What made up his mind?

It was stupid ( _petty_ , even), but Stiles was pretty much already convinced he would do it by the time Professor Hale said that the tournament was not for the faint-hearted. The prize money, the ' _glory_ ' of becoming a Triwizard Champion, and the mysterious, possibly fatal, tasks were all making the blood in his veins thrum. The humming of magic from the goblet was beckoning him. He felt it deep in his consciousness that the tournament was a risk he should take - an _instinct_. 

And then there was Theo.

Last night, luck was on his side for once. Stiles was the school's Head Boy (Lydia Martin, a close friend from Ravenclaw, was the Head Girl), which made roaming the castle in the dead of night one of his duties. He had never been more thankful for the responsibility.

When the students dispersed from the Great Hall into their Common Rooms after the Welcome Feast, Theo had pulled Stiles into an empty classroom and proceeded to maul him. Okay, _slightly_ exaggerated, but he still sucked Stiles's mouth like a parasite and pressed him to the hard, cold wall. Theo pulled away panting after a few minutes, bit at Stiles's lower lip, and whispered, "Do you know somewhere we could be alone?"

"We _are_ alone,"

Theo smiled lopsidedly, dropping his head to pepper wet, open-mouthed kisses on Stiles's neck. They really shouldn't be doing this right now. The chance of getting caught was very high. Stiles could still hear students from a distance. They had more control than this. Besides, it was only the first night. They shouldn't be hiding away in dark alcoves like a pair of hormonal teenagers who couldn't keep their pants up for more than two seconds.

"I meant, do you know a safer place where we could do this?"

Well, as it appeared, they _were_ a pair of hormonal, sex-crazed teenagers because they were doing _this_ , whatever this was. It just felt like it would end in mutual orgasms. Theo plus orgasms was an equation Stiles would enthusiastically solve, so he said:

"Meet me on the seventh floor at midnight," Stiles's breath hitched as Theo started biting on sensitive skin. "Left corridor, opposite the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. I'll dismiss the prefects early."

Come midnight, Stiles and Theo stood by the wall of the Room of Requirement. Stiles had read about this secret chamber in the library. It provided the seeker's needs if he was specific about it. To open the entranceway, Stiles walked past the wall three times, picturing what he needed in his head. Right after his third pass, the door appeared. 

Theo looked astonished. Stiles explained having learned and used it in the past when he needed space for studying, or contemplating, or practicing spells, or even just having somewhere to be to breathe.

They opened the door, and Stiles didn't know why he felt mortified to see the grand, four-poster bed inside when it was what he thought about when he willed the Room to appear for him. Theo smirked, "Well, I think it's only respectful to utilize the bed the Room so generously supplied for us. It even has dark red sheets. How thoughtful."

In less than a minute, Stiles found himself on his back atop the bed - the sheets were velvet, fuck, was he honestly thinking about _red velvet sheets_? - and Theo propped on his elbows on top of him, on a quest to take Stiles's breath away and was delivering unquestionably. 

Theo's hand reached down to unclip Stiles's Slytherin robes, pushed it aside, and made quick work loosening his emerald green and silver necktie. Theo pulled back to a kneeling position and fumbled at his robe's belt strap and collar-to-chest buttons, while Stiles finished off getting rid of his stupid necktie and body-length robes. As soon as Theo's upper body was naked, he pressed back into Stiles, pushing at his legs. Stiles had complied and parted his thighs to accommodate Theo's body as the boy swooped back down to make love to Stiles's neck. He was _great_ at it, too. Stiles could only moan and arch his back, especially when Theo rubbed their lower bodies together and made Stiles's skin vibrate deliciously. 

It had been perfect. Stiles had resigned himself to the fact that if Theo wanted to have sex, Stiles would put out willingly again as he did in summer. 

And then Theo opened his stupid, gorgeous mouth.

"Stiles," Theo whispered roughly, sucking a gigantic hickey on his collarbone. "Don't put your name on the goblet."

It took a moment for Stiles to catch up on his words. When he did, he slightly frowned. "Why?"

"Because," was all Theo offered for an explanation, and the sex-haze Stiles was in dissipated.

He pushed at Theo's shoulders until the Durmstrang boy lifted his head, eyes dilated with arousal. "Why?" Stiles repeated insistently.

Theo looked confused for a moment, "Why what?"

Stiles huffed and pulled up to sit, compelling Theo to do the same. The boy looked annoyed, but if he didn't want to be interrupted, he shouldn't have opened the topic out of the blue in the middle of foreplay.

"You said not to put my name on the goblet," Stiles said impatiently. "Can you please focus?"

Theo ground his teeth and deadpanned, "Forgive me for being a little disoriented. I currently have an _erection_."

Stiles ignored the statement - because he, too, sported a hard-on but could make his brain work just fine - and plowed back to his previous question. " _Why_?"

"Because it's dangerous!"

"Oh, and I assume you didn't already drop your name on the goblet?" Theo averted his eyes in irritation, which was answer enough. "You think I can't handle danger?" Stiles challenged, eyes narrowing.

"That's not what I said," Theo's jaws were set, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Stiles moved, too. "What are you saying, then?" He stood and picked his discarded clothing. "Know what, never mind, don't answer that."

Theo's aggravated gaze followed Stiles as he opened the drawer beside the bed and took the vial of oil he knew would be inside. He raised it to show to Theo. "I'll finish myself off. You should do the same." He pointed down at the boy's straining pants before walking to the door.

" _Stiles_ ,"

He reached the knob and turned to Theo with a grin. "And guess who's putting their name on the goblet?" He theatrically bowed and showed himself out, already thinking of cold showers.

***

Stiles avoided Theo all day and busied himself attending classes and doing Head Boy duties in the preparation of the Halloween Feast. 

His eagle owl, Roscoe, delivered the bags of treats he was expecting from Mrs. McCall and his dad, but there was a new, unexpected bag among his parcels. He opened it to find it full of local Bulgarian candies, and he didn't need to guess who sent it. There was no note, but he could smell the apology in the sweet, spicy aroma coming out of the bag. He smiled despite himself. 

It wasn't like he was angry at Theo - after all, he'd already done what he was told not to do - just miffed that the boy wouldn't give him a better explanation for asking Stiles not to put his name when Stiles knew there was a more profound reason behind it. Besides, there was a small chance of being picked out of all the seventh years that entered, right?

After the Halloween festivities and performances, dinner commenced, and Theo plopped himself beside Stiles, forgoing invitations. Stiles cheerfully greeted him this time because he enjoyed the prominent frown on the boy that showed his frustration. "Hi, Theo. Thanks for the candies,"

The mention of the bag cooled him down a notch, "Did you like them?"

Stiles confirmed, and Theo hummed in satisfaction. They ate beside each other comfortably; the Durmstrang boy's mood was lifting considerably now that Stiles was openly talking and smiling to him. The tension came back full-force, however, when the Hogwarts elves cleared the dishes, candles dimmed, and Professor Hale was standing by the inflamed goblet. Everybody's attention was to the front. Some were even holding their breaths for the announcement of the champions.

The flames turned red and spat out a parchment in the air. Professor Hale caught the slip and called out in a clear voice, "Durmstrang's champion: Theodore Raeken!"

Stiles couldn't help the jerk of his body and the gasp that followed. He whipped his head to look at Theo, but the boy had already stood and was walking determinedly to the front where Peter Hale waited for him, his shoulders set in a line. The other Durmstrang delegates clapped their hands loudly, obviously happy with the goblet's choice, and cheered him on. 

Fuck. Stiles didn't think the goblet would choose Theo - but he should have known - and Theo as one of the champions woke Stiles's awareness of the possibility that the next pick would be his name. Why did he think it was impossible?

Another slip of parchment flew to the air from inside the goblet. Professor Hale read, "Allison Argent is Beauxbatons' champion!"

The Beauxbatons' students clapped from the Ravenclaw table as a tall, dark-haired girl rose from among them and strutted elegantly to shake her Headmistress's hands. Her dimpled smile made her appear innocent, but there was a fierceness in her eyes that shouldn't be overlooked by anyone. She shook Theo's hand with a firm grasp before standing beside him, head held up high.

"And last but not the least," Stiles could feel cold sweat breaking out of his skin because he can sense _it_ happening as the last parchment landed in Professor Hale's hand. She smiled as she looked at the paper and announced, eyes trained on the Slytherin table: "The Hogwarts' champion is,"

_Merlin's frickin beard._ Stiles had thought of the day his daredevil complex was going to get him killed. This moment was it, and his blood shouldn't be singing.

"Mieczyslaw Stilinski."

~*~

[Harry Potter Wiki](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Add to his worries the fact that he was practically waiting for his turn to be cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to add chapters, after all. This commitment thing is making me anxious, but here it is. This chapter is written for SteoSpooktober prompt: Cursed. Unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine.

**_November 21st - Three days before the First Task_ **

  
  


Three weeks had passed since Halloween - since Stiles had become a small celebrity by becoming one of the three champions of the Triwizard Tournament.

Everyone in Hogwarts already recognized him before - he was Head Boy, after all. But now, everyone in Hogwarts  _ knew _ of him, and that was a shift in the paradigm. He found the attention to be odd, even creepy. People turned their heads when he entered a room and followed him with their eyes when he went out. He sat, ate, wrote, spoke, stumbled, frickin  _ sneezed _ , and everyone nearby knew about it. Stiles had accidentally seen his name on several poorly sealed letters - it was a Headboy duty to deliver mail to the owlery for the younger students - and it was only due to barely-exercised control that he brushed aside the urge to peek.

Anyway, not his biggest concern at the moment. The day of the First Task was barrelling by - it was in  _ three days _ \- and Stiles had yet any intel about what they could be facing. 

Professor Hale had invited Stiles to her office three times since Halloween. First was to inform Stiles that she had sent a formal letter to his father announcing his becoming champion for Hogwarts in the tournament - not that Stiles had not sent one already. His father had replied to him pretty quickly, letting Stiles know that he was apprehensive and unconvinced with the safety of the affair. But since Stiles, as was every single witch and wizard that put their names up, was of age and unobligated to get parental consent, his father had reluctantly accepted the fact. Stiles had received a copy of the combat manual distributed at the Auror academy the following day.

The second time he found himself summoned to the Headmistress office was a week and a half after the Halloween Feast. Professor Hale had assured him that should she learn anything at all about the First Task, Stiles would know in a heartbeat. The third time was only a day ago when the Headmistress had sighed and apologized to Stiles over tea that she had nothing useful she obtained. Technically, it was less than ideal for the Head of Schools to be nosing into the ins and outs of the Triwizard Tournament - particularly to tip the champions. All three Head Teachers would serve as judges, as was the custom, so helping out would therefore be explicitly flaunting their biases. But if the tasks were as dangerous as advertised, then a little dishonesty was forgivable. Especially that Stiles had read in one of the books from the Forbidden Section of the library, that cheating was not uncommon during the games - it was rampant.

Stiles had even tried Kira, whose mother was a ministry representative and would be one of the two other judges of the Triwizard Tournament coming from the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, Kira was also not privy to her business in the ministry.

As it were, Stiles was as clueless about the first task today as he was on Halloween, the week before, and yesterday. For all he knew, he was the only one left who was ignorant. The Beauxbatons champion, Allison, was as sharp-minded as her Headmistress, so it would make perfect sense that she would be ready by now. She had looked unconcerned when Stiles saw her at breakfast this morning. Allison had made good friends with the Ravenclaws, particularly Lydia Martin, and was carefree and content with how her life was going. Stiles could only dream he could say the same thing about him.

Apart from being harassed by thoughts of impending doom, his days went on with its usual brand of mundanity - so did everyone else. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegates still took classes with their Headteacher and slept in their respective carriage and ship. But during the day, they roamed around the castle and attended Hogwarts classes, and commingled until their presence had stopped being peculiar and started becoming a new normal. They were also permitted to visit Hogsmeade - a nearby village with shops and inns - on weekends, provided that they had a Hogwarts student for a companion during the trip to avoid venturing into dangerous territories or losing their way back.

Theo had invited Stiles to Hogsmeade the previous weekend. He had disregarded the possibility of it being a private invitation - like a date -  _ Merlin forbids _ that Stiles entertained the idea and then embarrassed himself. But when he showed up on the gates with Scott and Kira, who had invited Lydia, who had invited her new best friend Allison in tow, Theo was waiting for him remarkably by himself and visibly, undoubtedly put out. 

"You forgot to mention you were going with a  _ band," _ Theo had hissed when they walked side-by-side, trailing behind the others. 

" _ You _ forgot to mention you were going  _ without _ !" Stiles defensively retorted.

There was an awkward, palpable tension after that. Theo wore his displeasure like a second skin. He kept himself sparse and only offered little nods, shrugs, and grunts whenever somebody attempted to engage him in a conversation. He was shamelessly acting a complete dick, and Stiles worried that his friends would start to take offense, and their stroll would end in a needless squabble.

They were sitting in The Three Broomsticks Inn awaiting their orders, and Stiles had had enough of Theo's asshole routine. He excused them and pulled Theo to the direction of the lavatories. As they turned to a corner, Stiles rounded on the insolent boy.

_ " _ What the hell is wrong with you _?" _ he sizzled. 

The Durmstrang boy crossed his arms with a huff like the petulant manchild he was, "What do you  _ think _ ?"

"You don't have to be -" Stiles lowered his voice when a wizard passing by gave them a disapproving look. "- a  _ douchebag _ ."

"You're right, I don't," he said. "But I  _ am _ a douchebag."

Stiles spoke through clenched teeth, "I'm starting to see that."

"Look," Theo dropped his arms and fixed Stiles with a dismissive look. Even so, his voice remained frosty. "My friends are over by the sports shop -"

Stiles said before he could stop, " _ Spintwitches Sporting Needs _ ,"

"- and I'm sure they're still there."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, mirroring Theo's earlier pose. "Are you saying you're  _ leaving _ ?" The boy shrugged noncommittally, and Stiles quickly dropped his arms again in disbelief. "You're the one who invited me here!"

"Yes," Theo returned cuttingly, the blue in his eyes hardening. "I invited  _ you, _ "

As soon as Theo pointed it out, Stiles stopped short as he understood where the antagonistic attitude was coming. He had assumed that Theo would be comfortable with his friends because he had always been polite and engaging when approached. Then again, not only Stiles had become a celebrity overnight and relinquished his privacy and personal space. Allison had even chosen to come with Lydia in their small group instead of a bigger crowd. Maybe Theo had wanted to be alone, and since a Hogwarts student had to be along, he settled with Stiles since he was the most familiar to him - physically, at least.

He felt a slight stinging at the idea of being a last resort, but he swallowed it along with his guilt. Stiles exhaled and rubbed an eyebrow, "What if we stay for a pint of butterbeer," he suggested. "And then we can visit any shop you want."

Theo was silent for a moment, considering the offer, and relented with a final grunt. "Fine," was all he said, but his mood had improved by the time they went back to the booth. Theo had readily participated in a conversation with Scott about Quidditch when the Gryffindor mentioned dreaming going pro. His sister, Tara Raeken, was a Chaser for the National Bulgarian team - the reason why the Raekens were always present in the Quidditch World Cup.

Lydia had quirked an eyebrow, and Allison tried to hide her bemusement. Stiles made a point of ignoring their knowing looks because he was not ready to fortify their suspicion that he had opened his legs to a rival - and they could easily detect the crime in his eyes. Stiles recognized the glimmer in Lydia's eyes that usually meant she had surmised who was sleeping with who. Stiles had called Lydia a  _ hoe-detector _ as a joke. He found it not so funny now.

It had taken longer to split from the group because a few students from the lower years had spotted them and came up to ask for their autographs and pose for pictures since it was an opportune moment to catch all three Triwizard champions on the same table. When Stiles finally found a chance to excuse him and Theo - skirting Lydia and her eyes - Stiles had bounded the street toward the  _ Spintwitches _ . 

“Hey,” Theo caught his elbow, halting his steps. “You mentioned a shop you frequent to get supplies for when you pull a prank on your friends, right?”

Stiles had searched his brain for when he told Theo about it and was surprised when he belatedly remembered dropping the information in one of his nervous ramblings months ago, last summer before they eventually stumbled into bed. How could Theo still recall that? Brushing the shock aside, he nodded. “Yeah,  _ Zonko’s Joke Shop _ .”

“Do you wanna go there?”

Stiles paused, pondering about the question. He wondered whether Theo was asking him or hinting that it was where he wanted to go - which was unnecessary because Stiles had said that Theo was calling the shots now. Stiles was merely his tour guide. He had settled with a safe reply, “Sure.”

Theo gave him an open-faced, knock-off-your-feet smile, and his stomach churned. He should keep smiling that way, Stiles thought; it made him less intimidating. And while the smirking, mysterious fuckboy persona was hot and all, this - dare he say it -  _ adorable _ side was just as captivating. 

Overall, Stiles had enjoyed that day. Theo had looked relaxed the entire time, even satisfied, although he ended up not buying anything and insisted on paying half of the items that Stiles had bagged.

He had barely seen Theo for the past couple of days - only during meals. He still sat beside Stiles and listened to his prattling about his classes, and then disappeared. For all Stiles knew, he could also be preparing for the first task - practicing more dark spells and stuff - that he had already figured out, somehow, days or weeks ago. Stiles could be the only one left unaware and would probably die five seconds into it. How tragically humiliating would that be?

***

“Professor Deaton?” Stiles peeked inside the hut-slash-office of the Ground Keeper of Hogwarts as well as the Care of Magical Creatures professor and Hufflepuff's Head of House. The teacher glanced at Stiles and waved for him to come in. 

He was in the middle of hyperventilating on Scott about his impending demise on the first task when a wide-eyed second-year Hufflepuff boy nervously interrupted and informed Stiles that Professor Deaton wanted to see him. Stiles went with the boy - who looked like he would throw-up any second - to the cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Stiles took pity on the boy and offered to sign the item clutched tightly in his hand. Stiles knew he was assuming, but the relief and glee in his eyes when he handed the quill and the broomstick figurine over - a  _ Nimbus High Speed 4050, S _ tiles’s exact broom model - was enough to assuage his sudden nerve. 

The boy clasped the signed statuette to his chest like it was a prized possession and twinkled his eyes up at Stiles. “I want to be a Seeker as good as you. I also want to be a Prefect, and then a Head Boy like you. Also, I want to be as smart as you! They said Slytherins were bad eggs, but I think you are the coolest.”

The declaration stunned Stiles. He had expected the boy to be asking for the autograph because he was a champion for the Triwizard Tournament and not because he was a talented Seeker, or  _ smart _ . Stiles would admit that the praise had made his day  _ loads _ better. It was a validation that Stiles, contrary to his bemoaning of being made-up of 206 hopeless bones, had done something right.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Professor Deaton straightened from the paper he was writing on and gave Stiles the standard diplomatic non-smile that frequently made him wary around the professor. He appeared too  _ shady _ to be a Hufflepuff - like he knew things most failed to comprehend - and spoke in riddles. He had this air of an extra awareness on everything, and it made Stiles nervous. Even the way the teacher talked made him uneasy. He could ask what you ate that morning and made it sound accusatory of you ingesting an illegal mushroom that would get you thrown to Azkaban - the wizarding prison - for such a heinous act. 

Stiles forced the thoughts aside because no matter how tricky he looked, Professor Deaton was still one of the best teachers in Hogwarts. He stepped forward as the teacher rolled his parchment and kept it inside a drawer on his worktable. Professor Deaton gestured for Stiles to take a seat before he disappeared in the little kitchen - probably to get the whistling kettle off the fire. 

Stiles forced himself to relax by sweeping his eyes around the room. Professor Deaton was one of the least organized teachers, but his workplace was one of the most interesting to observe. Often, different kinds of magical creatures surrounded the office - blast-ended skrewts, bowtruckles, billywigs, flesh-eating slugs, flobberworms, etc. - but today, scrolls and  _ animal parts  _ littered the space. He squinted his eyes -  _ was that a snake-shedding under the table? _ Stiles was about to investigate the pair of curved horns lying on top of a suspicious-looking hair when Professor Deaton appeared back, carrying a tray of kettle and cups.

He offered Stiles a cup and settled behind his oak desk. "Mr. Stilinski," he started. "You received an  _ Acceptable _ remark on your O.W.L. exam for Muggle Studies, am I correct?"

The question caught Stiles off guard. Muggle Studies (a subject dedicated to the studies on non-magical people and their society, government, anatomy, etc.) was the only course Stiles took on the sixth year that failed to result in  _ Outstanding _ or  _ Exceeds Expectations _ remark on the  _ Ordinary Wizarding Level _ exams. He had been agitated the entire time he sat in the exam room. Even though he had burned brows reading about the subject, he was too preoccupied with his Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA) exams - the one that needed to receive an  _ O _ from if he wanted to pursue Auror training. He ended up doing another round of reading on DADA, setting aside Muggle Studies.  _ A _ was better than what he was expecting.

He nodded to Professor Deaton's question. "Yes, sir."

"Are you sitting for Muggle Studies in your N.E.W.T. exams this end of the school year?"

"No, sir," Stiles replied. "I'm doing only three: Transfiguration, Potions, and DADA."

"Right," there was a small curve in the side of his lips. "You wanted to be an Auror like your father."

Stiles affirmed, ducking his head sheepishly. He was unaware that Professor Deaton cared to know even when Stiles had long dropped Care for Magical Creatures soon as it stopped being a required credential for his chosen career.

Professor Deaton sipped from his cup, "Well, I asked for you because I wanted to ask a question." He paused, eyes trained on Stiles. "What do you know about Muggle  _ AI _ ?"

Stiles had read a few chapters about Muggle technology in the volumes he borrowed from the library. There were sections specific to  _ AI _ or  _ Artificial Intelligence _ . Stiles knew of the basics. " _ Artificial Intelligence _ is the ability of a machine-controlled robot to perform tasks associated with intelligent beings," Stiles quoted what he remembered from a book. "It's when muggles create something live and logical but with mechanical parts - a clockwork being. Like putting a doll under the Imperius Curse." He added as an afterthought. " _ AI _ is the closest version of magic for muggles -  _ sort of _ ."

Professor Deaton gave a slight smile. "Sort of," he agreed. "Benefits and advantages?"

Stiles felt that he was being quizzed and obligingly responded. "The reduction of error and the chance of explorations and studies without risking human limitations. Count in its constant availability, and faster and accurate processing," Stiles shrugged. "It enhances human abilities and cognition."

The teacher inclined his head, "Disadvantages?"

"The cost," Stiles automatically answered. Money was always a pressing matter, whether you were magical or a muggle. " _ AIs _ need to be updated, repaired, and maintained. The muggles have no magic spell for any of that. While they may be upgraded versions, the  _ AIs _ are also not foolproof - they are expendable. One part malfunctioning might create a domino effect, sabotaging the entire machine. Plus, there are  _ specific _ tasks programmed into them - anything out of those can give irrelevant outputs."

Professor Deaton placed the cup on the saucer and nodded approvingly. "You seem knowledgeable enough," he opened a drawer and took out a sealed scroll. He pushed it over to Stiles. "I'm working on a project for the ministry, something to do with  _ Artificial Intelligence _ . You might be interested."

Stiles gingerly reached for the scroll and examined it. It bore the Hogwarts seal. "Thanks, professor." He began carefully. "But, not to be rude or anything, I am not the best person to read on this project. I only have an average on Muggle Studies and -"

"Stiles," Professor Deaton interrupted calmly, and Stiles snapped his mouth shut. Teachers rarely used given names, especially not Professor Deaton. So, yes, a shocking development - if it could even be called one. "You took Muggle Studies despite it not being a requirement any longer - the only pure-blood to do that. Average, in this situation, is a matter of perspective."

What situation? Stiles wanted to ask. But at his insistent look, Stiles wordlessly took the scroll and stood. "I appreciate it, sir. Thank you for the tea, and um, this." 

He nodded, "I know you will find it most useful, Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles bobbed his head once and exited.

***

During dinner that Tuesday evening, Stiles was disappointed to note that Theo had not turned up. His suspicion on him already strategizing about the first task was starting to be evident. What else would take so much of his time, but planning on how not to get killed? 

"You look glum," Malia commented from across the table. "No tarts to sniff?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes as she smirked. Stiles contemplated taking 50 points from her for insulting the  _ so-not-down-for-sass _ Head Boy (he could  _ absolutely _ do that). But then, he'd only be deducting 50 precious points from Slytherin, and that would  _ not _ do. Slytherin only had a few scores to lose before they could kiss the House Cup goodbye. So he settled with his most vicious death glare instead.

Something brushed against his elbow, and he looked down to see fingers grasping his arm. He raised his head and met Theo's determined, blue eyes. "We need to talk," he sounded earnest as well.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask what for, but Theo was already hauling him up and pulling him out of the Great Hall. His complaints fell on deaf ears, however, as the boy continued turning corners with haste, tagging Stiles along. The only reason Stiles decided against planting his feet on the floor and yanking away was the urgency in Theo's steps. They finally stopped in a dark, deserted corridor with Theo checking all sides for potential eavesdroppers. 

"Mind telling me now what warranted this maltreatment?" Stiles snapped, rubbing the part of his arm that Theo had gripped. His hold was hardly tight, but Stiles could be dramatic if he wanted to. "I do not appreciate being dragged around like a rag doll. I bruise easily."

Theo's eyes finally settled on him, confident of their privacy. One side of his lips lifted in a cocky smile when he caught up to Stiles's words. "I know,"

The tips of his ears felt prickly at Theo's implication. Stiles had no business wandering back to the hand-shaped bruises on his hips and angry bites all over his torso last summer. It was hardly the place and time. Well, mending that was -  _ stop, stop, Merlin stop _ . He was there because something significant was obviously in Theo's mind that seemed to be unrelated to anything sexual for once. His mouth thinned in a line. "Just out with it, will you?" 

The decisive look slipped back on, and Theo stepped forward, wetting his lips. "I know what the first task is,"

So, Stiles had been right; Theo did know. But why was he telling Stiles this? Was he going to  _ brag _ ?

Theo continued, "It's a chimera."

Stiles's mouth dropped open for two reasons. One: a chimera was a vicious, bloodthirsty, untameable beast - classified by the ministry as  _ lethal _ \- and capturing one to pit against teenagers in a game was sure to violate laws stipulated by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Two: if this was true, Theo had just spilled critical information on a competitor. He was out of his mind. It was that, or this was a trick. 

Stiles finally worked his jaw. "How did you know?"

Theo quickly explained, "High Master Hale directed me to tail the Beauxbatons champion -"

"Allison," Stiles supplied.

"- because he suspected their Headmistress knew of the task."

Stiles frowned. "How?"

"He had noticed a ministry owl carrying messages back-and-forth from the ministry to Madam Morrell's brother."

"Madam Morrell's brother?" Stiles echoed blankly.

"Yes," Theo hissed impatiently. "Your teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, Stiles, do you not know that?"

"Professor  _ Deaton _ ?" Stiles gawked. "You're telling me, Professor Deaton and Madam Morrell are  _ siblings _ ?"

"My huntsman spider could see it from Bulgaria," Theo enunciated slowly. "And it's blind."

Stiles had half a mind to throttle Theo -  _ that _ was uncalled for! He was making it out to be a crime. So what if Stiles was inept at pinpointing relatives based on physicality? For Merlin's sake, they had  _ nothing _ in common - apart from the sageness, that was. Morell and Deaton -

His thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt for a second. Then, it went haywire all over again. His heart was beating as erratically as his mind was putting puzzle pieces together. 

There had been letters exchanged from the ministry to Madam Morell's brother, Professor Deaton.  _ I'm working on a project for the ministry, something to do with Artificial Intelligence. _

The scattered scrolls in his office, the snake-shedding, the horn, the hair - no, the  _ mane _ ! A snake, a goat, and a lion - a  _ chimera _ . Not only that -

"An _artificial_ chimera," Stiles breathed out, eyes widening, hands frantically searching his robes for the scroll Professor Deaton had given him earlier. _Average, in this situation, is a matter of perspective._ _I know you will find it most useful, Mr. Stilinski._ Merlin, if only he had stopped speaking in riddles and just straightforwardly informed Stiles that he was clueing him in. Finding his robes empty, he cursed under his breath. "Merlin, I think I left it in the Common Room."

"What are you looking for? What do you mean by _artificial_ _chimera_?" 

Stiles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, took a second to collect his wits, and looked back to Theo. So, Theo was telling the truth. If his hunch proved correct, Stiles could see how a vicious chimera could be possible. His eagerness to tell Stiles bothered him still, though. The Slytherin sighed, "I'll tell you later when I have the scroll."

For a second, Theo wanted to protest but relented and sagged against the column behind him. "I guess I'll have to do some reading on chimeras, then." he sounded the least bit thrilled by what he said, gauging by the grimace that followed his statement.

Stiles regarded him curiously, "How did you manage to spy on Allison?" He asked because the Beauxbatons girl appeared too agile and alert.

This time, he looked up with a proud and pleased expression. "I used one of those ear things you showed me in the joke shop last weekend. A classmate of mine had bought a pair, so I took it and made proper use of it."

Stiles's eyebrows shot up instantly - amazed and horrified at the same time. "You used Extendable Ears - joke items, pranking materials - to spy on someone?" Stiles bit the inside of his cheeks hard to hold his laughter. "You are terrible at espionage,"

"Hey," Theo chided without heat. "It got me the information, didn't it?"

"Touche," Stiles ceded, hesitated, and then went on, "What's your motive, Theo? Why are you telling me the information you should be keeping to yourself?"

His forehead creased when he scowled. "You think I have a motive aside from trying to keep your ass alive?"

Stiles smiled wryly, "Of course, you'd want to keep my  _ ass _ alive," he muttered, then in a louder voice. "Is this some elaborate plot to get into my pants again?"

They had never again attempted to sneak to have sex like the first night. It was more because they had been busy than because of Stiles rejecting Theo's advancements - not that there had been plenty of them lately. The Durmstrang boy still pressed his body close to Stiles whenever he could and left lingering touches and heated stares. There had been a distinct lack of opportunity for more than that, however. Not even for a sloppy make-out session.

The thing was, they were seldom alone these days. On Stiles's side, it was due to him being the Head Boy that Prefects surround him all the time. He had duties on top of his classes. And now, he dedicated a portion of his day to freaking out about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, too. Theo, though, was rarely alone because of this Durmstrang girl that openly exhibited his dislike of Stiles. She was always around clinging onto Theo like a stubborn disease and looked at Stiles like  _ he _ was the infection. Honestly, it would not surprise Stiles if he spontaneously combusted one day - her glare was radioactive. She was the reason Stiles had invited Scott and Kira to Hogsmeade. He was sure the girl was tagging along, but maybe Theo had at last found an effective way to shake her off.

Yes, Stiles was still into him.  _ But _ , with all the eyes that followed their movements in the regular, the chance for discretion had slimmed considerably. So while he was not declining Theo, he was  _ relieved _ that circumstances made it impossible to get them alone. If Stiles got caught in a compromising position with a boy he was not in a relationship with, his father would personally pluck him out of school, or worse, send him howlers. Worst of all, he would sit Stiles down for the sex talk.

Theo snorted and shook his head, removing himself from the pillar, and padded toward Stiles until he had stepped into his personal space. He smirked down at Stiles, then crowded him slowly to the wall. One hand came up and pressed to a spot beside the Stiles's head. Stiles moved backward to put some space, but only managed to cage himself successfully between the wall and Theo's body. "You figured me out, Stiles." The boy whispered, eyes glued on the Slytherin's lips. His head inched lower, the tip of his nose rubbing softly on Stiles's jaw up to the side of his face. Theo's other hand slotted itself on his hip, while a thigh separated his legs -  _ talk about compromising positions and possibilities of getting caught _ . "That was my intention all along,"

Stiles, who was pretty much all mushy and gooey and melted puddle inside, kept a stellar job of arranging his features with that of playfulness. "Sorry, Theo, but I don't fraternize with the enemy."

That had made Theo smirk even bigger, "Don't you think it's a bit too late for that?"

"Not really," Stiles replied airily. "We slept together last summer before the Triwizard Tournament. And nothing happened on that first night," he leveled Theo with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll just make certain that nothing happens again. It would be highly inappropriate."

"You think you can do that?" There was a mocking tone in his laugh.

Despite the teasing nature of their banter, Stiles still clenched his jaw and hardened his resolve. "Now that it's an official challenge," he placed a palm on Theo's chest and pushed hard and purposive enough to dislodge Theo from him - making him stumble a little and gape. The cocky demeanor slipped instantly and was replaced by, first surprise, then disbelief, then vexation. Stiles took a page from Theo's book and plastered a familiar smirk on his face. "Try me."

Stiles pushed his back off the wall and clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder, "See you around, nemesis."

***

**_November 23rd - A day before the First Task_ **

  
  


The night before the First Task, Professor Hale made an announcement.

"The three champions are to be briefed about the First Task tonight," she began, the prattling and tittering of voices in the Great Hall dying down abruptly. "They will not be returning to their quarters with their housemates but will be sequestered in a special chamber up until an hour before the First Task the following day. The three will then proceed to the champions' tent for final instructions."

Heads turned to the three champions, as they also absorbed the news. Stiles had received wishes of luck from everyone the whole day and been jittery with nerves since the night before. 

Stiles had unsealed the scroll Professor Deaton had given. Indeed, there inside was a blueprint of an artificial beast that the ministry had contracted the Professor to develop. He had returned the favor to Theo and showed the scroll with the diagram and the listed machine parts required to build it. The Durmstrang boy had furrowed his brows and gave him a blank look.

"It's muggle technology,"

Then, he wrinkled his nose. Stiles threw him a dirty look. "Oh, you're one of those pure-blood supremacists, aren't you?"

"No," he said measuredly. "But Durmstrang barely has half-bloods, let alone muggle-borns. Anything non-magic is strange to me is all."

His face betrayed no prejudice, and besides, Stiles had read school statistics in his History of Magic book. Durmstrang's population consisted of an average of 87% pure-bloods, 13% half-bloods, and no recorded muggle-born attendees for the past 300 years. Although Beauxbatons had a diverse curriculum and students, almost similar to Hogwarts, with an average population of 58% pure-bloods, 26% half-bloods, and 16% muggle-borns for the past century, the school had yet to open a course for Muggle Studies. 

If Stiles showed Allison the scroll, her reaction would be more likely matching Theo's. That was assuming she had no idea of the chimera being an artificial one, of course. If that was the case, then theoretically, Stiles had the upper hand in the First Task for at least having read about  _ Artificial Intelligence _ in the past and knowing what to expect.

_ Average, in this situation, is a matter of perspective.  _ Professor Deaton had probably meant the games.

Headmistress Hale's voice jarred him back to the present. "Champions, please remain while the rest of the student body returned to the Common Rooms."

Scott jogged over to the Slytherin table to hug Stiles and wished him luck. A few other well-wishers also smiled and clapped his back on their way out of the Great Hall. A timid, Hufflepuff boy hesitantly approached Stiles, but when the Slytherin recognized the boy to be the second-year who escorted him to Professor Deaton's hut two days ago, Stiles offered a kind smile first. The boy, loosening up, ducked his head and returned the smile.

"I just wanted to say good luck," he fidgeted with his robes. “I’m rooting for you, Head Boy.” he started walking away when Stiles called him. The young boy stopped his tracks.

“What’s your name?” Stiles asked.

He croaked when he replied, “Mason.”

“Thanks, Mason.” Stiles looked him in the eyes, “This means so much to me.”

Mason paused, then his face broke into a bright grin. “This means so much to me, too.”

  
  


***

Professor Hale ushered them into the chamber off the Great Hall just adjacent to the High Table. It was the same chamber where the three Headteachers, Stiles’s Head of House and Hogwarts’ Potions Master Laura Hale, the two ministry officials, and the newly-elected Triwizard champions gathered on the night of Halloween for the first debriefing. It was also where a journalist of the Daily Prophet had interviewed the three and photographed for an event-specific spread.

The same people from Halloween assembled in the room. Professor Laura Hale was the Head of Slytherin House and directly responsible for Stiles, thus requiring her attendance in any of the tournament-related meetings. The young teacher winked at him from where she was standing by the fireplace.

"Please sit down," Headmistress Hale motioned the three champions to a couch. The Headteachers contentedly lounged nearby, watching the two ministry officials take their seats across the students. Professor Hale was serene, Madam Morrell was her usual stoic nature, while High Master Hale - Merlin's beard, another  _ Hale  _ \- looked amused.

Seriously, Stiles just wanted to address the exhausting circumstance of calling four Professor Hales in the same school. Headmistress Talia Hale was Hogwarts’ Headteacher, while her younger brother High Master Peter Hale was Durmstrang’s. Professor Laura Hale was Slytherin’s Head of House and Potions Master, while  _ her _ younger brother Professor Derek Hale was Head of Gryffindor House and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. There, it finally sounded clear, at least, in his head.

The elder of the two officials, Mrs. Satomi Ito, was from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Beside her was Kira’s mother, Mrs. Noshiko Yukimura, from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They were both austere, and being under their scrutiny was making Stiles squirm in his seats.

“Traditionally,” Mrs. Ito spoke, breaking the silence in the room. “The champions are allowed to use their wands in the games. Due to the nature of the First Task, however, that will not be the case morrow.”

There was a lack of outrageous outbursts from the teachers. They wore collective cautious expressions but had remained unspeaking. The champions, on the other hand, did not possess their level of calm. They would be stripped of their magic while battling for their lives. 

“That’s preposterous,” Allison said without raising her voice but hardening it. “No other magical items are allowed in the games aside from our wands, and now we can’t have that, too? How are we supposed to fight a ferocious beast without magic?”

“You won't be without magic,” Mrs. Yukimura replied, unperturbed by the reaction. “That is why you have been gathered tonight instead of on the day of the task.”

Mrs. Ito procured a small wooden box and placed it on the tea table between them. All attention fell on the curious item, the three champions, the wariest of all.

“The box has three pieces of scrolls inside - one for each of you.” The woman explained. “Whatever you might pick will determine the type of magic you will retain during the First Task.”

“So, the scrolls contain spells?” Stiles clarified.

Mrs. Ito slightly tilted her head to the side, leveling Stiles with a discerning look. “Not exactly,”

That was very vague and unhelpful. Stiles was, yet again, faced with a person who spoke in riddles.

“The type of magic in the scrolls is uncommon but ephemeral,” Mrs. Yukimura added. “The effect lasts only for a day and crescendos in the midst. You will activate the magic tonight for it to be at its peak during the task.”

Theo spoke from Stiles’s side. “It's still not very assuring. One heightened ability versus a murderous beast - the odds are not in our favor.”

“ _ Three _ heightened abilities versus a murderous beast,” Mrs. Ito corrected. “The first task is designed to test your limitations. Turning a liability into an asset is an important quality in a wizard. You will be doing the task at the same time. Your ranking depends on how well you utilized the magic granted to you.” 

"And to answer Mr. Stilinski's earlier question," Kira's mother trained her steely eyes on Stiles, and the boy almost shuddered. How could Scott be in the same vicinity as his girlfriend's mom without wanting to bolt away? "It won't be a spell inside the scrolls. The magic you will activate is a curse."

_ Great _ , Stiles thought miserably, not only would his wand be confiscated, but he would also have to be cursed before the night ends. This tournament lived up to its infamy, after all.

***

Following the order of selection, Theo was first to pick a scroll from the box. They were not to choose until they were inside the separate chambers that would temporarily host them until the morning. 

Stiles had breathed in relief when he realized where they would be staying. He had initially pictured a dingy, little box in the Forbidden Forest, but when they turned to the direction of the Headteacher's Tower, he finally relaxed. At least they would be in close vicinity as the Headmistress.

They were in three different rooms, and Stiles had to wait for his turn to get the last scroll. He paced inside the room - it was as big as one sleeping quarters shared by six people in the Slytherin Common Room - and bit his nail. The Slytherin was finding it hard to calm his nerves, probably because Stiles was already without a wand. He had never separated from it ever since he got it before starting his first year at Hogwarts. Parting him with that piece of wood was like stripping him of his clothes with his junk dangling for everyone to see. He felt oddly bare, and it was making him anxious.

Add to his worries the fact that he was practically waiting for his turn to be cursed. 

His head snapped up when he heard a scream and then a roar from next door. His eyes widened, and his heartbeat was frantically increasing.  _ What in Merlin kind of curse was that? _ Had they secretly unleashed a chimera per activated scroll? Were they tricking them, and the First Task was in actuality already in motion?

His heart lurched when there was a knock on his door. He briefly contemplated not answering, but moved his feet and found himself turning the lock. Mrs. Yukimura was standing on the other side, holding the box. She probably noticed how pale Stiles was because she allowed a small, assuring smile to slip from her front. 

"It's okay, Stiles," she said. "This last curse fits you well."

He tried to determine if it was supposed to be a commendation or a backhanded compliment. Either way, with no other way around it, Stiles would prefer to get it over with as soon as possible.

He extended his arm and felt inside the box for the scroll. He took it out and studied the rather unimposing item.

"Once you unroll it, the curse activates." Mrs. Yukimura backed away. "It might sting for a little bit, but after the magic binds, you'll be fine."

Sting could not be the right word to associate with the scream he heard coming from the next room, but he kept quiet. He closed the door as Mrs. Yukimura left.

He inhaled a lungful of courage and unraveled the scroll. As soon as he revealed the magic rune, the parchment fell from his hands to the floor in a pile of ashes, and his body began twitching while his head felt like it was splitting open. Something seemed to be taking roots in his forehead, and no, the word sting was  _ far off _ the accurate description.

He fell with a thud beside the ashes from the incinerated parchment. There was a burning sensation inside his stomach and throat. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was the smoke that was curving out of his mouth. 

~ * ~

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles frowned when he was holding his glass. "Is this Bloody Mary?"
> 
> Theo nodded, "Your friend, Erica, volunteered the information that you liked this muggle drink - and more so because of its morbid origin story than the taste. She lent me her recipe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter so much. But hopefully it came out all right. Written for SteoSpooktober prompt - Bloody Mary. (Honestly, the prompts help a lot in deciding what to write next). Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.

**_November 24th - First Task_ **

  
  


"The objective of the First Task," Mrs. Yukimura began a few minutes after they arrived in the champions' tent. "Is for you to retrieve the pair of golden wings that are inside the arena. This item contains your clue for the Second Task."

The three contestants were huddled in a bench, listening intently to the final instructions before the task officially began in less than an hour. Both ministry officials assured that nobody apart from those under the same curse could see through the magic. But Stiles had remained fidgety, sitting in the presence of so many eyes while being painfully aware of his current deformity. Allison had the same dilemma if the way she kept rubbing at her jaw was any indication. Theo, the lucky twat that he was, seemed to be the only one who had gotten over his physical change. 

They had already switched into their tournament outfit: different color jumpers and black pants under a black hooded robe. Theo's upper gear was blood red, so were the double linings on his black pants and robe. Stitched over the left chest area of the robe was the Durmstrang logo, while the word RAEKEN was on the upper back portion. Allison had on a light blue one with a tad darker shade of blue for the linings, the Beauxbatons mark on her chest, and her last name at the back of her robe. Stiles's garment was emerald to identify the Slytherin House along with silver double linings. His robe bore the Hogwarts' emblem, the logo of the four Houses of Hogwarts, and the school's motto  **Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus** \-  _ Never tickle a sleeping dragon. _ He had felt a swell of pride when he first saw his last name sewn on the robe. It hadn't fully registered to him until then that he wasn't only attempting to bring glory to Slytherin but his entire school.

"Your obstacle for this task is a mechanical chimera - part of the project the Ministry of Magic is doing in collaboration with the Muggle Government here in Great Britain." Mrs. Ito said dutifully, a hint of respect in her voice. "Its specific function is to protect the object you are seeking. The beast may not be real, but it is not any less dangerous and incapable of defending the item."

Reiterated earlier, when they were in the Headmistress office, was that the first task intended to challenge the adaptability of the champions in the face of limitations.  _ Your wand does not possess your magic. _ Professor Talia Hale had smiled when she added:  _ it is merely an instrument to channel it - the real magic is inside you _ .

The officials stood, the Headteachers followed suit, "You have time to discuss a plan of action - or choose to act separately. It is entirely at your discretion. When you hear a bell ring, that's your signal to begin. Good luck to all."

They exited the tent but not before the Headteachers, with Professor Laura Hale, hugged and shook the hands of the champions. When they were left alone, they stared at each other for a long moment before Theo broke the silence with an arrogant drawl.

"We look  _ dashing _ , don't we?"

Allison pursed her lips, and Stiles heaved a long-suffering sigh. 

Waking up with a splitting headache and a queasy stomach on the floor was not exactly novel to Stiles. The Slytherins were notorious in their Common Room parties, and Stiles had been participating in underage drinking ever since his fifth year when he had been chosen by his Head of House and the Headmistress as a Prefect. Hence, being hungover after a night of partying and making stupid decisions was not new to him any longer. The catch was, the throbbing in his head and the fiery sensation in his stomach that morning was  _ worse _ than any he had ever experienced from firewhiskey.

And never before had he woken up with devil's horns sprouting from his forehead. He wished he could say he shrieked like a dignified man, but no. He had screeched like a banshee the moment he caught sight of his hideous reflection in the mirror. 

His cry had alerted his Head of House, whom Stiles learned was in the Headmistress's office, along with the tournament judges awaiting the champions to wake. Professor Hale had burst into the room, wand drawn from casting the unlocking spell. " _ Stilinski _ , you screamed even louder than the Beauxbatons girl when she came through."

He was the last to wake up. He had looked desperately at Professor Hale, but she only ushered him out of the room and to the direction of the Headmistress office for breakfast unperturbed by the blasted horns in her students' forehead. If it was out of respect that she chose to keep from commenting, she could not have picked the worst timing to be considerate. 

She'd belly-laughed at her students' ill-luck before. Like that one time, she walked into the dungeons to find half the Slytherin seventh years passed out in the Common Room with giant, disgusting fungi breaking-out of their faces. Stiles had been in his fourth year then, confessing to messing up the bottles of firewhiskey with a potion he concocted out of spite for his arrogant higher-years. The group had publicized his slight crush on Professor Derek Hale in the Great Hall during a meal, outing Stiles's newly-discovered bisexuality in the process. Professor Hale just laughed at the seventh year's faces and told them to brew an antidote when their heads weren't full of air. She put them in detention for getting caught in possession of contraband and awarded Stiles thirty house points for brewing a perfect  _ Fungiface Potion _ and putting it to proper use.

Today, Stiles wanted Professor Hale to acknowledge the  _ horns in the room _ because there had been a mistake with the curse. How in Merlin could this be the effect of the curse? To be fair appearance-wise, he wholly made a picture of someone blighted, but how was this supposed to defeat a chimera? Was he supposed to ram his little curvy horns through its stupid hairy fake-hide? 

"Professor," Stiles looked at her imploringly. "Why did I turn into a  _ goat _ ?"

Professor Hale scanned his body and face with a frown and declared, "You look the same to me."

Stiles's mouth thinned in a line.

"No, I don't mean it like that," The Potions Master quickly amended with a chuckle, "I can't see the physical effect of the curse on any of you," her eyes twinkled, fiddling her wand. "Unless I cast a  _ Revelio _ , of course. Do you want me to?"

" _ No _ !"

She had laughed at him  _ then _ and steered him into the office. Inside, Stiles found Theo and Allison in the same existential crisis. The Durmstrang boy, at least, looked only partially spooked by his transformation. Half of his skin had turned scaly and patterned with black and gold. The more Stiles studied it, though, he realized it made an attractive shape on Theo - which was  _ unfair _ because Theo was already plenty handsome and didn't require more. 

He moved his eyes to Allison sitting opposite Theo at the transfigured circular dining table, and  _ she _ looked miserable while shoving food into her mouth. She sat straight, spine not touching the chair's rest and her butt occupied but a quarter of the seat - she should look regal, really, but her eyes screamed desolation. Stiles could sympathize because her change was  _ horrible _ . She lost her perfect, sophisticated jawline and neck in a jungle of dark, thick, ragged lion mane. It was an unspeakable atrocity if nothing else - just  _ too much hair _ on an otherwise flawless face. Stiles could almost choke on her sullen temper when he had joined them at the table.

Her mood had elevated since, but not enough to quell the deep frown she wore. Stiles was sure, though, that most of it were because she worried about how to play the curse to her advantage. Stiles, on the other hand, had an idea - albeit an indistinctive one. He had puzzled the situation together right after he saw them and their disfigurement that morning and made a strong guess on the "ability" the curse supposedly planted into them.

"I have a plan," he said after another long stretch of awkward silence with which Theo had spent staring Stiles down as if coaxing his thoughts out. Two pairs of eyes turned to him - well,  _ one _ . Allison looked up from where she was sitting, worrying her lower lip to a chap.

Theo snorted, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't,"

Stiles ignored him and continued. "That is if you are willing to work together."

"We are not a team, Stiles." Allison pointed out not unkindly.

"No," Theo agreed, leaning against a tent beam. "But if Stiles has a plan, I would be wise and listen to it. Don't you get it by now, Beauxbatons?"

"That you fancy him stupid?" Allison deadpanned, visibly irritated at the name-calling. It probably wouldn't take much to get a rise out of the girl that moment. She had been strung-up the whole morning and, more or less, tossed her patience out the proverbial window. "And I have a name,  _ Durmstrang _ ."

Stiles reddened, but the boy in question only blinked, unfazed. "That it's going to be a chimera vs. chimera freak show."

Allison sighed defeatedly, hung her head, and looked down on the hands folded in her lap. "I noticed," she admitted.

"Look," Stiles hurried to interrupt with a glare directed to Theo because the boy was opening his mouth to a petty and provoking response. Theo raised a brow then rolled his eyes, but snapped his mouth shut anyway. He turned to Allison again. "My plan is on eliminating the beast. When that's over with, we're on our own."

Allison scrutinized him but gestured to continue.

"We're not going to be a  _ team, _ just momentary allies against a bigger common threat. When that's out of the picture, then go ahead and do your worst." Stiles clarified. He knew where the girl was coming from with her reluctance. Hell, she had nothing to be alarmed about because Stiles was under no illusion that because they were doing the task at the same time, that they were not in competition with each other any longer. He told her so. "Because Merlin knows, I want those wings to myself, too, and I will shave your greasy mane with these pointy bones in my forehead if I have to. But we can't do that if  _ something else _ is after our collective behinds."

Theo chuckled in amusement. Stiles glanced at his direction for a brief moment and caught his proud smirk and wink. He looked away immediately to prevent any embarrassing flushing on his part. He shouldn't be encouraging Theo's outrageous flirtations - not that he was anything but studiously persistent about it - because Stiles had instigated the sex ban, to begin. Well,  _ technically _ , but the Durmstrang boy still called it first by mocking Stiles and his incapability of turning him down. He should have known better, though. The last time he told Stiles he could not do something, Stiles put his name on the Goblet of Fire. And now, they were competitors, and Stiles was a  _ goat _ .

He mentally scolded himself. It wasn't the time to be thinking about Theo and the sex they weren't having. He resolutely fixed his eyes on the Beauxbatons girl. 

Her shoulders had loosened, and there was a slight uptick in the corner of Allison's lips as well. The girl cocked her head to the side, "What's the plan?"

***

The plan was simple: Allison was going to hold it down, Theo was going to spit the acidic venom he was currently capable of extracting, and Stiles was going to char the machine down to a useless pile of metals. When that was over, they'd locate the golden wings and then best each other. They'd forgone with the specifics - honestly, a detailed plan against an unpredictable feral machine was doomed to fail and, also, time was a luxury they had no hold over - and agreed only on the general scene they wanted to establish. 

The chimera, as Stiles had read from his old Care for Magical Creatures book, was a monstrous hybrid. It was a female lion with a goat's head protruding from its back and a tail of a snake. The creature had a "near-invincible" reputation due to the combined abilities it possessed: the lion's strength, the goat's cunning, and the snake's venom. Most notable of all, the chimera  _ breathed _ fire through the goat's mouth. 

Stiles already had a nagging suspicion after seeing himself in the mirror. He mentally revisited the burning sensation in his stomach and the puff of smoke that emitted out of his mouth before passing out the night before. The moment his eyes landed on the slimy diamond-patterned skin on Theo and the jungle of unkempt -  _ possibly lice-infested _ \- brown mane on Allison, he had put it together. The three of them were a broken-down chimera of their own, stuck with only the ability of each animal component. 

Stiles had to be honest; they had better chances now in comparison to using every legal spell they were allowed to cast with a wand. Another thing as well, Stiles had read once in his Muggle Studies book that some of the more advanced muggle technology were magic-resistant and may even cause a backfire. Of course, this was dependent on the type of spell, the object, its elements, the caster, and a few other factors. The Ministry had yet to file and publish a compendium about the subject understandably because the Muggle Liaison Office was only a small division of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and virtually understaffed. Stiles was glad that the Ministry was beginning to open its doors wider on muggle relations - this project with  _ Artificial Intelligence _ being a prime example.

Re-evaluating Professor Deaton's blueprint in his mind's eye, he could assume that the mechanical chimera was, for the most part, that -  _ mechanical _ . Stiles had not seen a spell in the scroll, only the components of the machine - most of which were unfamiliar to Stiles. But unquestionably, this chimera could function like an authentic one. He could vaguely recall the terms  _ fire emitter device _ ,  _ smoke vent _ ,  _ gas discharger, fuel chamber _ \- something along those lines. So, yes, this automaton could pretty much fry them on sight as well.

"Just stick to the plan," Stiles said when the signal sounded, and the three descended to the field - the uproar of the crowd spurring Stiles forward despite his nervousness.

His moment of basking in the exultation was cut short by the sight that greeted them as they stepped foot in the arena - a clearing in the Forbidden Forest set up to look like a stadium. Theo and Allison jerked to a stop on either side of him as well. 

" _ Ebasi _ ," Stiles heard Theo mutter under his breath, and he was sure the Durmstrang boy had just sworn. Stiles would have done the same if he wasn't too preoccupied with gaping at the monster in front of them.

The chimera was  _ gigantic _ \- a few stones short of the Hungarian Horntail dragon - and it was mad. It roared for the crowd with its powerful clanking voice. The snake-headed tail also made a show of spewing a supersized dollop of a liquid material onto a nearby boulder, while the goat expelled a big blast of fire and lit the boulder straight to ashes.  _ Great _ .

To top it, they didn't need to go above and beyond to hunt down the object for the task. The pair of golden wings were  _ attached _ to the back of the lion's body, beating as the chimera used it for a little flying test run.  _ Just great. _

  
  


***

With luck, they found rolls of thick cords lying about in the arena. Putting the ropes to profitable use was a different matter altogether.

Stiles could not count with the fingers in his hands the amount of time he almost caught fire in the last eternity or so - but maybe just 10 minutes if you weren't running for your life. Thankfully, he was in time to duck, roll, and hide each time. Allison had singed mane, however, and Theo had sacrificed his outer robe ages ago. The chimera remained unscathed. 

"This is  _ impossible _ !" Allison shouted from a nearby rock, hiding just in time before the snake could douse her with petrol. Theo was nowhere in sight, but the last time Stiles saw him, the boy was trying to climb the monster through its ruff. The effort had gone to waste, too, because the chimera flicked a wing, and Theo went flying. Allison turned to him as the beast crushed another kiloton of rocks under its weight upon landing. "We can't do anything if it has the advantage of flying."

_ Right _ . A sudden idea rushed to Stiles in a surge of crazy to suicidal. "So let's take that away," Stiles told her, eyes alight.

"What do you reckon we've been trying to do here?" Allison snapped and shot him a glare. "I have to climb up to hold it down with my weight so we could rope it in and prevent it from flying."

"No," Stiles wanted to pat his brain on the back if it had one - it was doing a magnificent job. "We have to take the  _ wings _ first to ground it,"

Allison seemed to be at her wit's end when she gritted out, " _ How _ are we supposed to accomplish that when we couldn't even get close at all?" 

"You have strength, Allison." Stiles pointed out excitedly. "Quick, toss me to the thing's back!" He scrambled to crawl toward the girl, careful to keep low enough to remain covered.

Allison stared at him like he'd lost his mind - which wasn't the opposite because Stiles had  _ just _ gathered his wits about, "Are you  _ insane _ ?"

"I saw how you do crossbows," Stiles insisted. "I know you have an accurate aim. I trust you."

The girl looked surprised, but before she could respond, they heard a loud, stubborn, drawn-out cry and then a roar followed by the familiar flapping of wings. The two peeked from their hideout and found the Durmstrang boy hanging onto the lion, gripping tightly on its hair while the beast tried to fling him away and shake him off. The chimera was starting to take flight, but Theo held fast with determination.

Stiles grabbed Allison's arm, his enthusiasm quickly replaced by desperate urgency. "Allison, there's no  _ time _ ! Pitch me off now before it's too high up."

Allison was still conflicted but understood the drive from Stiles's eyes. She removed the coil of rope hanging on one of her shoulders and slung it on Stiles. "Don't die."

She stepped into a more open field, seized Stiles by the waist, and launched him to the air. 

It was nothing like riding a broom. Stiles catapulted high in the air, but it felt like  _ falling _ . The pressure in his ears kept increasing, and his eyes were watering from the rush, but he fought to keep them open. It was so near now. He stretched his arms -  _ just a little more _ \- and grabbed onto thick locks.

The momentum flung him back and straight to imminent danger: he opened his eyes and stared straight at the soulless ones of the mechanical goat. The click of machines detected him a threat because he could hear the rumble from underneath the creature preparing to open fire. 

The adrenaline caught up to him then, and he remembered what he ought to do. Taking the rope from around him, he slid down from the head and landed on the lion's thankfully broad back. But a jerky motion, as they remained airborne, caused Stiles to slide and land on his butt. The mechanical goat tracked his movements and began opening its mouth. Stiles scrambled to loop the rope and inserted it into its mouth. His ears were ringing at the thrum of his blood because he could plummet to his death but  _ knew _ deep inside that he wouldn't. He executed fast work on creating a temporary muzzle - climbing, sliding, and holding on to a thrashing creature. Soon, the goat found itself unable to open its mouth. Stiles knew he only had a limited time, however, because his handiwork could not hold against a machine.

Stiles held on to its hair as he made his way up the lion's head. Thankfully, Allison seemed to be doing something from below to arrest the attention of the snake. A momentary glance backward saw Stiles witnessing the snake deflecting and attacking pieces of rocks hurled toward it.

The lion whipped its head with a roar, back and forth, still trying to shake off Theo. Stiles heard the boy's yell of exertion follow. He squinted in the wind, trying to hunt down Theo's location as much as was possible in his hunched position. Behind him, the goat continued battering against its bound. Many feet below, the noise of the crowd could not drown out the thumping in his heart and the persistent rumbling of the machinery inside the chimera's body. 

The beast suddenly veered to the side. Stiles had a split-second panic, but his instincts were quick to act. He dug his feet in the beast's body - one of his foot was bare now - while he gripped even more pinching onto the mane, bending closer to the body. Then he caught an angry swearing somewhere on his right.

The Slytherin pushed forward to the direction of the voice, "Theo!"

The response was muffled but confirmed the Durmstrang's position, "Stiles," his voice sounded strained.

Stiles threw the rope to the part he thought Theo would be dangling precariously. "Grab the cord!"

"Your skinny ass can't pull me up!"

"It's tied around the goat, idiot!" Stiles also felt the need to add in defense: "And I'm not skinny!"

A few seconds later, Stiles could feel the tell-tale tug. He inhaled deep and grunted in labor as he heaved and pulled while maintaining his balance. After a fifth haul, Theo's body appeared. The boy helped himself mount the lion's back, hunkering down behind Stiles. He clutched the Slytherin's waist as he chased his breath, the boy's chest drumming frantically in Stiles's back.

The chimera hoisted itself up, the wings fluttering jerkily. They were going higher and higher, circling the expanse of the arena from above. Soon, Allison's giant rocks could not reach the snake anymore, and it bared down on the two wizards.

The snake hissed when it spotted the interlopers and swooped for assault. There was a series of motions behind Stiles, and the next thing he knew, Theo was, yet again, hanging on an animal. Stiles swore and abandoned the safety of his station. He scaled over the goat - who was still having trouble with the muzzle - and landed behind its head. 

"Theo!" Stiles called. The boy had managed to wrap himself around the snake, doing his best to avoid the fangs attempting to impale him. He was spitting yellow-orange liquid all over the parts he could reach. Stiles would have found the display funny if they weren't on the verge of dying. As it were, Theo spat the mother of all globs directly into the snake's mouth when it opened for another hissy-fit.

"Stiles,  _ blow _ !"

The Slytherin immediately read the command, and his stomach churned instinctively, boiling lava rising to his throat and out of his mouth in a colossal wave of white heat.

Stiles didn't know what to expect - they hadn't experimented on their spit-and-torch mojo yet - but the way the mechanical snake lashed around as if in terrible pain was the perfection he wanted to see. Theo fell with a thud by Stiles's feet, also looking up to the snake, avidly watching the aftereffect of his troubles. Slowly, the parts where Theo slobbered his magic acid began melting and pulling apart. In less than a minute, the entire head separated from the body and clunked down to the arena several feet below.

For a moment, Stiles and Theo puffed and gaped wide-eyed at the headless chimera tail. When it finally fell in a useless lump, Theo turned to him in astonishment.

Stiles returned the awestruck expression, and as if it was a natural occurrence, they beamed at each other and laughed in disbelief at their success. 

The celebration cut off when the chimera cried again and began a swift descent this time. They both tumbled and clambered for purchase on any available surface. Stiles's ears were ringing again, this time from the downward pressure. He shouted with difficulty, "Do it on the wing slots!"

He exhaled in ease when Theo moved, indicating he had understood what Stiles meant. But at the same moment, the muzzle loosened on the fire-breathing goat. Stiles sprang to business and grappled the rope as the animal convulsed. Theo had to hurry; they were going down rapidly.

A few seconds passed, Theo returned to his side, helping Stiles with the cord. The boy's eyes were bright and adrenaline-crazed. It seemed Stiles wasn't the only one absurd enough to feel thrilled at their perilous state, "You think you can grab both?"

Stiles nodded determinedly. He wasn't sure, but he was going to do his best. Theo grinned widely, and he was so beautiful, ragged and dirty, that Stiles couldn't help but return it - nevermind that they were about to go nose-diving to death.

***

Well, the chimera  _ did _ nose-dive, not to death but close to it. 

Stiles had managed to uproot the wings from its apertures on the lion's back. Unfortunately, both of the wings managed to slip from his hand even though he had on a death grip. He couldn't mull over the confusion for long before Theo crashed to him - the muzzle had broken, and the ropes ripped - and the pair went sailing to the air. Allison had blocked their momentum and caught them with seconds to spare before they struck the ground. The mechanical chimera, however, crashed and crumpled to the rocky field with a weak groan.

Due to the damages it sustained, the chimera twitched and jerked and spewed fire without control - almost hitting the judge's tent and a little of the spectator's stand. The students had begun screaming and evacuating the seats in terror as the machine proceeded to spit up fire at random.

As it twisted on the ground, Stiles had noticed the red button tucked on its underbelly. He wracked his brains to get another mental picture of Professor Deaton's blueprint, trying to place its importance. 

He gasped when he realized what it was, "Hit that button. It's a  _ killswitch _ !"

Allison didn't question him and did as he ordered, picking a sharp, elongated rock and launching it to the air like an arrow. It hit straight to the target, and instantly, the machine slackened and stilled.

***

"Dude," Scott gushed in awe. "That was  _ epic _ !"

Dinner that evening was a festive affair. The tables were full, and the house-elves were busy refilling platters after platters of food. Everyone was abuzz from the earlier event, and it remained the subject of most conversations - most especially because it was time to collect dues from the betting pool.

Right after the chimera died, a horn blew from the judge's tent to signal the end of the First Task. All three champions were gasping from exhaustion when they were collected back into the tent by their Headteachers - Head of House for Stiles's case. One of the teachers levitated the golden wings that  _ none _ of them could hold for some reason off the field.

Inside, they afforded time to fix themselves before the announcement of the final marks and ranking. Professor Laura Hale had laughed at him when she saw he was missing a pair of his shoes, and a toe was poking out of the holed sock. The pride in her eyes was unmistakable, however, when she reached to ruffle his hair with the fondness of an elder sister toward a younger brother. It was invigorating.

They arranged themselves as best as they could with the little time before being escorted to the judge's tent. The arena was already clean, the mechanical chimera possibly already levitated out by Professor Deaton as he was not in his seat anymore. The students also crowded back in the partially roasted stands, cheering as the champions presented in front.

Headmistress Hale cast a  _ Sonorus charm _ and situated her wand on the side of her mouth to project her voice when she announced the official closing of the First Task. 

Allison ranked in third. The Beauxbatons girl wasn't disheartened by placing last like what Stiles had feared. She had, after all, displayed strong competitiveness earlier. Instead, she had stepped forward with a dimpled smile, completely disregarding the fact that she still wore a mane around her face. The delegates of her school were graceful in their clapping as well.

A rambunctious lauding resonated from the Durmstrang delegation when Theo came in second. Some also stomped their staff or their chests in a ritualistic tapping to show support. Peter Hale had even smiled cockily at the side, leering at a poised Madam Morrell.

Stiles's heart somersaulted in his chest at the applause he had received from his people. He couldn't bite back the extensive beam on his face when his schoolmates started chanting his name. They would've taken off the roof of the arena had there been one, and this moment was something that only happened in his fantasies before. But there he was - granted only on the first of three trials - putting the splendor on Hogwarts.

Hours later - when the curse had dissolved, and they had their wands back - the enthusiasm had not died down a notch. Thus, finding Scott in the Slytherin table from the other side of the Great Hall, spouting repetitious praises at his best friend's  _ fighting skills _ .

"Seriously," He insisted on a mouthful of roasted turkey. "It was so  _ awesome _ ! If you weren't my best friend, and I didn't have Kira, I'd be totally in love with you."

Theo had snorted on his other side. It was a regular arrangement in the Slytherin table now. Theo had an unspoken territory beside Stiles, and no one batted an eye anymore - well, aside from the Durmstrang girl that still kept on glaring daggers in his direction every time possible. Erica - Stiles's  _ favorite _ housemate despite his earlier denial - always saved them a seat next to each other. Sometimes, he was unsure of how to react. He had not spoken to anybody from his house about his -  _ whatever it was _ \- relationship with Theo and nobody had questioned him, too. They just acknowledged and accepted the tension between them. Stiles could say the same to Theo's classmates, with one  _ obvious _ exception.

Later, through the end of the Celebratory Feast, Headmistress Hale awarded Stiles a golden locket in the shape of an enclosed pair of wings - like a half-ear on each side, folded at the center. The giant wings attached to the chimera happened to be a vintage magical necklace on its alter ego - the reason none of the champions could hold it while under the curse.

When Stiles tried to pry it open, the wings didn't budge. It looked simplistic from afar, but the hum of power that washed over Stiles when he wore it around his neck was strong and ancient. The Slytherin studied it again, every touch sending vibrations to his body. He would look for the clue that the item possessed later. For now, he would revel in his achievement.

***

**_December 17th - A week (and a day) before the Yule Ball_ **

  
  


"So, Stilinski," Lydia opened conversationally, as they walked the hallways toward the office of Headmistress Hale. "Do you have a date for the Yule Ball?"

He inwardly sighed. It was a discussion he loathed to have at the moment. "No,"

"Haven't you asked anybody?"

"No,"

There was a slight pause, then: "Hasn't anybody asked  _ you _ ?"

He pursed his lips and bit the inside of his mouth. " _ No _ ."

The truth was, somebody had already asked him -  _ persistently _ \- three times now since the announcement of the Yule Ball earlier in December. And his answer was always the same: "No."

Lydia hummed thoughtfully. "Really? Because I heard about a friendly Quidditch match scheduled this afternoon."

Stiles clenched his jaw, looking straight ahead and refusing to even glance at her knowing expression. "How do you even reckon that connects to my not having a date to the blasted dance?"

"Oh, no reason."

Stiles sighed again. He hated her perceptiveness sometimes, especially when she poked her nose into his business. It was infuriating how she was always right.

Less than two weeks after the First Task, Stiles's life pretty much receded to normalcy. Of course, the attention was still there, but it had become more tolerable now. The needless staring had diminished, and the hallway greetings and smiles had increased. He also put most of his attention back on his studies. The Triwizard Tournament had not excused him from the  _ Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test _ come May the following year, and he needed to acquire  _ Outstanding _ remarks on all three he was sitting in. 

He had also not cracked the golden wing locket yet. He tried a few opening spells, but none had worked. The Second Task was not until February of next year anyway, so he had time to focus on other things. 

Of course, the regression to the mean denied stretching for longer because Professor Hale had announced the Yule Ball early into December that ensnared the entire student body in another whirlwind of delirious excitement.

"Following traditions of the Triwizard Tournament," she had said. "Hogwarts will also organize the Yule Ball - a formal celebration held on Christmas Day for all of the participating schools. Hogwarts students from the fourth year up may go. Younger students may also attend when invited by an older student."

Naturally, the Great Hall erupted into chaos following the announcement. The last Yule Ball was in 1994, after all.

"The Head of Houses will give a brief lecture about behavior and expectations to the students partaking in the event. Our Head Boy and Girl will also be assigned in the preparations, for we want nothing short of perfection for this significant occasion." The Headmistress gave the crowd a cheeky smile. "As for the others, I urge you to start rummaging your trunks for your best dress robes. And maybe begin taking lessons, as well. After all, the Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a  _ dance _ ."

And if that wasn't bad enough, Professor Hale had added:

"The tournament champions are required to attend and must have a partner, for traditionally, they will open the celebration."

Thus, putting Stiles in his predicament. There was a week left before the Yule Ball, and he was without a partner still. He hadn't gotten around to inviting anybody, what with all the preparatory assignments he had to oversee, and his studies, and the locket, and the NEWT exams, and  _ Theo _ .

Merlin. Theo was the last person he wanted on his mind. But that was a difficult feat to accomplish when the boy was the reason for Stiles's current distress. It appeared that Stiles could catch a break from everything else, but not with Theo. He was always a cause for woe, whether it was something he said or something he did, or just by  _ being _ . Sometimes, it wasn't his fault - because Stiles was the only one responsible for his thoughts and feelings. But there were also times that Theo put him at his wit's end  _ intentionally _ , and Stiles, he was just  _ at a loss _ on how to handle the boy. He had gone past from the usual innuendos and casual teasing and whispered propositions to rile Stiles up. His presence was starting to do  _ more _ than frustrate Stiles sexually, and  _ that line _ ought to remain uncrossed. 

It had started a few days after the announcement. During dinner one night, Theo had leaned close and given Stiles this  _ look _ . "It's your turn for post-curfew inspections tonight, right?"

Not thinking it unusual, he confirmed.

Theo grinned. He was doing that a lot around Stiles lately, and he would be lying if he said that the private smiles weren't making him flustered and putting stupid butterflies in his stomach.

"Meet me by the lake at midnight," was all he said before getting up, nodding at a smirking Erica, and exiting the Great Hall.

So when midnight came, Stiles found himself strolling side-by-side with Theo by the Great Lake. They settled by a clearing, surrounded by magic flowers, with the Durmstrang ship docked visibly from their spot. There were a picnic basket and a blanket laid down on the grass.

Stiles's brows shot up immediately. Theo gestured for him to take a seat. "My mom sent a package," he stated, taking out a parcel from the basket. "She's rarely home to do anything domestic, but whenever she is, she makes these pies." He unlaced the bewitched package to reveal a freshly-baked pie. "It's green dragon berry pie - the fruit is grown in our manor."

Stiles took a seat while studying the Durmstrang boy wearily. Theo took a slice, put it in a napkin, and handed it to Stiles. The Slytherin accepted and transferred his scrutiny to the food.

"It's nothing grand," Theo added. "Your house-elves here still make better pumpkin pies." He watched Stiles take a small bite from his piece. "Only when I say it's rare, I mean once in three years or so. Tara is always over the moon when she receives homemade packages."

It tasted all right. There was a tangy sweet/sour unfamiliar flavor from the green dragon berry fruit - it was Bulgarian local produce and expensive in the market. The fact that the Raekens grew their tree in their  _ manor backyard _ was a little intimidating. Stiles knew they were wealthy, but knowing and seeing a proof were two different matters altogether. 

"Thank you," he muttered self-consciously. Theo hummed in satisfaction and procured a clear bottle of red liquid from the basket. Stiles quietly observed as the Durmstrang boy also took out two glasses with enchanted ice cubes inside. He uncorked the bottle and poured the beverage into the glasses.

Stiles frowned when he was holding his glass. "Is this  _ Bloody Mary _ ?"

Theo nodded, "Your friend, Erica, volunteered the information that you liked this muggle drink - and more so because of its morbid origin story than the taste. She lent me her recipe."

Stiles gaped. "You mixed this… for  _ me _ ?"

He shrugged. "Erica said she knew other half-bloods who could get the ingredients, so I paid them. But I concocted the drink myself, yes." He added with pride. He took a sip. "If I'm to be honest, this muggle drink isn't half bad."

Stiles's heart rate picked up, and his breathing got suddenly uneven. He was baffled and suspicious, and a treacherous part of him was even  _ hopeful _ \- for  _ what _ , he couldn't tell. His stomach was stirring too, and all these conflicting emotions were  _ awful _ . His self-preservation was gearing up for a fight.

"Why are you doing this?" He narrowed his eyes accusingly.

Theo was startled by Stiles's reaction, but he schooled his expression on neutral. After a pause, he smirked. "I guess there's no beating around the bush with you, huh?"

Stiles only stared expectantly, gripping the glass of muggle cocktail. After another beat, Theo spoke again.

"Go to the dance with me."

Stiles wasn't sure he heard the words correctly, so he only furrowed his brows and gaped some more. Theo stubbornly stared back. Finally, he breathed. "What?"

"What, as in you didn't hear what I said, or as in you think I'm crazy?"

"The  _ second _ one obviously,"

Theo chuckled. "I don't see why not?"

"Here, let me show you," Stiles deadpanned, setting the glass down as he held up a finger. "One: it's unheard of that two champions go to the ball together."

"Don't you wanna break tradition and be the first one?"

_ That _ sounded tempting to his Slytherin ears, but Stiles plowed on, "Two: it's uncommon that two persons of the same gender go to the ball together."

"That's  _ stupid _ . It's a dance, not procreation. You're just making excuses."

_ Yes _ , Stiles knew that was a stupid point, but whatever. He held up a third finger, "And third: you're doing this to prove a point."

Theo frowned at this, "What point?"

Stiles held his chin up, "That I can't refuse you. That I'll lie down and take it when you asked. I mean,  _ this _ -" he waved his hand at the food and their surroundings. "Is certainly an improvement from your suggestive smirking and groping and staring me down to a boiling point. But, no, I remain steadfast."

The Durmstrang boy had fully scowled. He scoffed loudly, "You think this is because I want to have sex with you?"

"Don't you?" Stiles challenged.

"I do!" Theo snapped. "But that has nothing to do with this."

"Uhhuh," Stiles mocked. He picked the entire bottle of  _ Bloody Mary _ from the blanket and his slice of pie and stood up. "You know what? Nice try. But I'm going to go."

" _ Stiles _ ,"

"Goodnight, Theo."

Stiles thought that had been it about the Yule Ball because the next day, Theo was his usual arrogant self and hadn't once mentioned the night before. But he asked a second time only a few days later. It was a much quicker discussion with less theatrics.

"Malia's going  _ solo _ to the ball," Erica cackled during lunch.

Malia ignored her and turned her attention to Stiles. "How about you - found a date already?"

Theo interjected from beside him. "No, he hasn't. I can fix that." He looked at Stiles straight to the eyes. "Do you wanna go to the ball with me?" He asked with the smoothness of a strawberry jam.

Stiles gritted out vehemently, " _ No _ ,"

Stiles's housemates and some Durmstrang students laughed at their banter. Theo shrugged playfully, but Stiles could not mistake the tightness in his jaw when he looked away.

The third time he asked, he didn't  _ ask _ . Theo manipulated his way into an agreement.

He had cornered Stiles on his way to Potions class.

"Theo, I'm not going to lose my House some points for being tardy."

"You're not," he replied with nonchalance. "Didn't you tell me Professor Laura Hale doesn't take points from Slytherin?"

Stiles pursed his lips, because yes, he might have blabbered about that by accident. " _ Detention _ , then."

Theo waved a hand in dismissal, "You're her favorite, right?"

"I'm not a teacher's pet!" Stiles blurted out, aghast. Although, if he squinted a little, he  _ was _ . But Stiles wasn't going to admit that. He sighed in defeat. Stiles might as well be trying to pass through a brick wall, "What is this about?"

"You wouldn't go to the ball with me,"

Stiles's jaw dropped. "We're still not done with this?"

"No," Theo replied. "You refuse to go because you think this is somehow for sex, not because you don't want to."

That was true, so Stiles didn't bother lying. "So?"

"So, let's play on it instead."

Stiles's forehead pinched. "Play what?"

"Quidditch,"

"Quidditch," he repeated dryly. 

"Yes. A friendly match. Anybody from Hogwarts can be on your team, and I'll ask a few Durmstrang friends of mine and maybe one or two from Beauxbatons to play in my team." Theo said it with all seriousness that it was starting to sound ridiculous. "But you and I have to be the Seekers."

"You do know I  _ am _ a Seeker,"

Theo nodded unbothered.

"Theo, you don't play Quidditch." Stiles pointed out.

"I know how to fly a broom," he shrugged and leveled Stiles with an unreadable look. "And I am intimately familiar with chasing adamantly elusive things. I think I'm all set."

Stiles set his jaw. It was getting out of hand. He started to say " _ Theo _ -"

The Durmstrang boy interrupted him with a slow drag of his lips upward. Stiles knew that look. It was the look that meant he was about to taunt his way into a compromise. "Are you afraid of losing to me?" 

He wasn't going to fall for that trap. He wasn't. But then, he had.

Theo took Stiles's silence as an answer. "On Sunday - I'll make the necessary arrangements. If I win, you can't refuse my invitation to the dance. If you win, I'll stop asking."

Stiles had nothing to worry about, truthfully, because especially against Theo, he was pretty confident about his seeking skills. He could probably catch the golden snitch in less than thirty minutes. He was just  _ bewildered _ about the entire proposition. Theo was behaving unreasonably stubborn about this.

He didn't want to take Stiles as his date to the ball  _ for real _ , did he?

That godawful fluttering in his chest was back again, and he hated it. Theo was doing a spectacular job at not only making Stiles hot and bothered but messing him with  _ feelings _ , too. Sure it was only little butterflies, and flattering gestures, and stupid secret smiles for now, but Stiles was toeing a  _ dangerous line _ with all those little things. 

Thank Merlin, he had kept the blasted Bloody Mary concoction in his trunk because he severely needed it before he had to go and play Theo's stupid game.

He wasn't going to lose anything to Theo - not Quidditch, not the Triwizard Tournament, and not his stupid  _ emotions _ for goddamned sure.

~ • ~

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may also find this on [tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/630933349492555776/there-you-are-and-i-run)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You Slytherins are a gutsy bunch, aren't you?" Theo broke the silence, standing very close to Stiles that he was hyper-aware of the warmth coming from the other boy. Stiles had accustomed himself to the cold in the dungeons, so feeling this kind of electrified heat was making Stiles short-breathed.
> 
> He continued staring ahead, "Nope. Those are Gryffindors."
> 
> Theo chuckled, "Gryffindors are courageous; you people are the rebellious kind."
> 
> "Hm,"
> 
> His voice dipped, almost like sharing a secret, "It's making me more attracted to you."

**_December 25th - Christmas Day and Yule Ball_ **

  
  


" _ Holy, Salazar Slytherin _ !" 

Stiles's hand flew to his chest as he had a momentary heart attack from the outcry. He was also not proud of the shrilly squeal that escaped from his mouth. But it was Erica's fault. She should know better than to sneak up on Stiles and rattle him, whether intentional or not. 

He was smoothing the fabric of his dress robes in the privacy of the empty boys' dormitory he shared with five other Slytherin seventh years. There was nobody in the room apart from him because the others had gone down to prepare the Common Room for the annual illicit holiday party the Slytherins were infamous for hosting during Christmas nights. He was blissfully taking advantage of the time alone to examine his reflection in the mirror. He looked  _ fancy _ in his garb, which was a gift from his father sent in earlier, but he could not help dreading the fact as much as celebrating it.

He spun around to scowl at the intruder who was making her way to him with an honest dumbfounded expression. 

"What sort of  _ bewitchery _ is this?" She held both his shoulders when she reached him. She made a slow sweep of her eyes up and down the length of his body, then made a humming noise of approval. "You're  _ hot _ ,"

His cheeks flamed at the compliment, but he glared all the same, "You're not supposed to-"

"Be in the boy's dormitory, yeah, yeah," she muttered and fidgeted on Stiles's bow tie and ran a hand down one clothed arm. "I heard you the first five hundred times you told me."

"And yet you're still here,"

Erica gave him a cheeky smile and patted the side of his face in fondness. She propelled him toward the body-length mirror with her peeking over his shoulder. "You know you're going to put him down on his knees, right?"

His mind unhelpfully conjured a mental image of the description. He suppressed a groan and shot Erica's reflection a wilting look, "I  _ won't _ ,"

"Oh, shush," She beamed with her sets of pearly teeth. "Just because I don't confront you about your affair doesn't mean I'm unaware of it."

Stiles ought to feel panicked at the implication; he knew he would be the first weeks before the First Task. Instead, he felt eased to have someone to talk about Theo and their whatever-it-was. His face scrunched up, "You make it sound like I'm a mistress or something,"

"Or something," she nodded, then barked out a loud laugh. "Theo fancies you  _ so bad _ ."

Stiles tried to push down the rush of heady and traitorous excitement from the idea. It was needless to say, but he failed. Even with the wary churning in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't deny the swelling of his ego at Erica's statement. The fact that she genuinely believed Stiles had  _ any _ ability to catch someone's eye - much less someone high-profile like Theo - was a compliment in itself. Erica was very attentive - otherwise called  _ nosy _ \- and opinionated, and it wasn't usually fun to be on the receiving end of it.

"It's not like that," he knew it was a weak argument; Erica was headstrong on her beliefs and was not going to back down easily once she started. And she  _ had _ started ever since the Quidditch game.

"I would gladly put you up on a debate with all my bullet points any other day," her fingers played with the tips of his hair. "But I'm going to stick to the fact that tonight," she paused for a dramatic effect, and the grin she sent him was shamelessly suggestive. "You owe Theo a dance."

***

Stiles had initially calculated that he was going to catch the elusive ball about thirty minutes into the match - he fully expected that Theo was going to put up a decent fight despite being kind of an underdog against Stiles. He was wrong on his estimates.

His team won in less than  _ ten minutes _ .

When Stiles's team arrived at the Quidditch pitch that Sunday afternoon, Theo's group was already there - geared up and ready to roll.

Stiles had primarily asked his team to play with him, but two of the Slytherin chasers had caught potion-induced fever the day before from some silly mixed-up accident in class. So, Stiles had begged Scott to fill in for one, and Stiles's new  _ fanboy _ \- Erica's words - Mason Hewitt from Hufflepuff, to fill in the other. Technically, Mason was not a player yet, but he had been practicing for tryouts next school year - albeit for a Seeker position, but a player is a player - so Stiles knew he was quite adept at flying.

In the end, the final lineup was this:

> **Keeper** : Jackson Whittemore

He's the Slytherin's Quidditch captain and the posh to Stiles's dowdy. Stiles would admit they had a bit of a love-hate relationship since the first year, but they both respected each other as teammates. Jackson was an excellent goalie, and Stiles had won them numerous games. So, even though they tyrannize one another outside of the pitch, he was quick to agree to play. Jackson had always been competitive and would jump at any opportunity to flaunt his skills. Headmistress Hale had canceled the Quidditch games in favor of the Triwizard Tournament, so the next time he could show off would be during the tryouts  _ after _ the event.

Another reason was that it was a game against a team with Theo in it. Stiles was not surprised to discover that the two already knew each other before the Triwizard Tournament. The Whittemore clan was also an old, powerful pure-blood family, so it only made sense that they were in the same social circles as the Raekens. Similar to his feelings on Stiles, Jackson did not  _ hate _ Theo. He only resented the Durmstrang boy occasionally, which Stiles thought  _ also _ made sense. Theo  _ was _ infuriating.

> **Chasers** : (1) Hayden Romero, (2) Scott McCall, (3) Mason Hewitt

Hayden was a fourth-year Slytherin who never said no to Stiles - not that Stiles ever exploited the knowledge. Hayden was one of Stiles's younger tutees for  _ Potions _ ,  _ Ancient Runes _ , and  _ Arithmancy _ classes, and the girl decided she owed him at least a few years of favors. Her exact words had been:  _ a Lannister always pays her debts.  _ Stiles had no idea what a Lannister was supposed to be, but he chucked it as some muggle reference he would only hurt his head trying to comprehend.

Scott was a Gryffindor chaser and its team captain and, of course, Stiles's best friend. It was almost an obligation to play on Stiles's team without question - even if Scott and Jackson's rivalry could match up that of Lydia's and Stiles's in academics. Theirs was much more severe and with the involvement of profanities courtesy of the Slytherin  _ Jack _ -ass. Jackson, it seemed, resented everybody who had the potential of being better than him.

> **Beaters** : (1) Erica Reyes, (2) Malia Tate

These ladies were Slytherin's  _ best _ beaters and two of Stiles's most loyal support systems. It was not difficult to convince them to play. They had shrugged and high-fived one another at the prospect of beating up visitors with their bludger. Honestly, Stiles was glad he was  _ on _ their team. They were frightening together as opponents.

Lastly:

> **Seeker** : Stiles " _ how the hell did I get myself in this situation _ " Stilinski

Theo's team had consisted of the following members:

> **Keeper** : Donovan Donati (Durmstrang)

> **Chasers** : (1) Tracy Stewart (Durmstrang, and Stiles's _number one_ _hater_ ), (2) Josh Diaz (Durmstrang), (3) Isaac Lahey (Beauxbatons)

> **Beaters** : twins Aiden and Ethan Steiner (Durmstrang and even more aggravating as a duo than Theo would ever be, in Stiles's opinion, which wasn't biased at all)

> **Seeker** : Theo " _ I'm so hot in Quidditch uniform I can scorch the sun _ " Raeken

There were students on the bleachers despite it being a Hogsmeade day. The rumor mill had worked its magic and spread the word about the match, and they found the event more engaging than enjoying a day out to the village. When the teams were face-to-face, Jackson had smiled cockily down at Theo - of course; he would  _ rub _ his advantage on the Durmstrang's face.

"I assume you know how the game works?" Jackson smirked. "Even so, allow me to run a quick refresher course to the non-players."

Scott had rolled his eyes so hard that Stiles had thought for a minute they would be permanently white. Erica and Malia were relishing the attention, Mason was a wide-eyed bubble of excitement, Hayden had a grimace on her face, and Stiles could only hope he wasn't too apparent in his checking out of Theo. Well, to the rest at least, because Theo  _ had _ noticed if the smug grin on his face - despite Jackson's haranguing - was anything for indication.

"Each team has seven players: a  _ Keeper _ who tends the goal, three  _ Chasers _ who shoot goals, two  _ Beaters _ who handle the bludging, and a  _ Seeker _ who catches the snitch," Jackson explained. Honestly, Stiles thought it was a generous gesture. Lahey from Beauxbatons and Josh from Durmstrang listened raptly. Almost as if Theo roped them into this without prior knowledge of the task. "There are three balls: the  _ Quaffle _ worth ten points per goal, the  _ bludger _ worth your bruises and evident elimination, and the  _ Golden Snitch _ worth one-hundred-fifty points when caught.

Since this is a  _ friendly _ match," Jackson's face distorted at the word. "we will limit the game to a couple of hours instead of going on until one of the Seekers captures the winning ball.  _ Although _ ," the corners of his mouth had tugged widely. "I trust Stilinski will have no problem with that. No offense." He added, but it was quite obvious he didn't mean it.

So, yes, Stiles  _ didn't _ have a problem with catching the Snitch. It was a while before the golden fluttering ball buzzed to sight, but once spotted, flying after it came naturally to Stiles. Theo, for his part, gave chase as best as he could.

Stiles's hand curled around the little ball the exact moment he heard a loud crunch to his right. He had no time to revel because he was too preoccupied with gawking at the plummeting form of Theo. He swooped down when his senses clicked in place again at the gasps and screams of their spectators but knew he couldn't reach the boy in time.

Theo hit the ground with more revolting snaps.

It was a blur of frantic actions afterward. The school's mediwitch arrived, examined Theo, and levitated him to the infirmary. The others scattered about to do various things. But Stiles couldn't stay behind to listen to them select who was going to run to Headmistress Hale, call High Master Hale, send an owl to his parents, check if he damaged his new  _ Firebolt Super Sport 16FSX _ and all other things.

No, Stiles hastened along with the mediwitch to make sure the foolish boy was going to live. He was going to fight anyone who was going to try and stop him. No one did.

Mason and Scott followed Stiles, assuring him that Erica and Malia were on their way to notify Slytherin's Head of House and Lydia of what happened in case Stiles wound up staying in the infirmary.

Stiles's heart was speeding the entire time, and at one point, thought he was going to have a meltdown. The guilt was weighing him down every minute without knowing Theo's condition. If not because of Stiles, Theo wouldn't have played Quidditch, and none of this would've happened. And it had happened fingerbreadths away from Stiles, so it was virtually impossible not to feel involved.

Less than twenty minutes of pacing outside the medical wing, though, the door opened to permit them inside. Theo had broken a few  _ thankfully _ mendable bones with only a small dose of Skele-gro potion and was dozing off for the regeneration process. He was to stay in the infirmary overnight and would be cleared tomorrow for release with medical advice not to go near any bludger for the next year or lifetime.

Stiles had almost liquified to the ground in relief.

That evening, he pleaded to take the post-curfew rounds from Lydia, who narrowed her eyes but agreed with no questions. She didn't need to. She had heard about what happened in the game earlier - likely everyone had. Stiles hadn't received any scolding from the teachers because it was Theo that arranged the game with the Ground-Keeper, Professor Deaton, in the first place, but it didn't make his guilt dwindle.

When Stiles slipped into the medical wing, Theo was awake. He couldn't sleep with the tickly sensation of the bones rearranging themselves to the proper position. Seeing him lying under the sterile sheets of a hospital bed, Stiles felt a bubble of anger surging from the depths of his stomach. 

"You're lucky you're alive after that asinine move, you knuckleheaded idiot!"

Theo dared to smirk, "I'm pretty sure one of those descriptions was redundant,"

"What were you  _ thinking _ ?" Stiles barraged on. "Oh, right, you  _ weren't _ !"

He winced after a particular movement, and Stiles's anger faded quickly, displaced with worry. He rushed to his side, "What's wrong? Do I call the mediwitch?"

"No," Theo shook his head and adjusted on his side a little. "It's just a little uncomfortable. Nothing unbearable."

Stiles pursed his lips, flaring up again. "Why would you even plunge towards an oncoming  _ bludger _ ?"

"It was gonna hit you," Theo replied simplistically.

"I would've  _ dodged _ ," Stiles wasn't so convinced about that, but that wasn't the point.

"Will you just thank me?" Theo sounded exasperated, but Stiles could not help his irritation.

"For almost killing yourself?"

Theo rolled his eyes, "For saving you."

Stiles squinted his eyes dangerously, "Is this a plot to have me disqualified in the tournament? Because if this is-"

" _ Stiles _ ," Theo looked enraged now and insulted. "Why does everything I do have to be because I have a motive  _ against _ you?"

He ground his teeth together. "Because we're opponents,"

"Oh,  _ fuck _ the Triwizard Tournament," Theo snapped, eyes blazing. "I wanted you safe;  _ that's it _ . I'm not stupid to sign up the twins - who are  _ actual _ Beaters - to try and hit you so I could dive in and save the day. I'd never risk hurting you like that, okay? So you can shut up with your spiteful thinking, and fucking thank me, for the love of  _ Vūlchanova _ ."

It was silent in the room for a while, the two locked in a heated - not the fun kind - gaze. It was the first time Stiles saw Theo truly worked up over something. While the Durmstrang boy was not anywhere near what he would describe as a  _ patient _ person, Theo had always managed to restrain from actually getting angry. It - Stiles should be ashamed - looked so satisfying the way his cheeks flushed, and eyes flashed. Like he finally had enough of Stiles's neverending allegations - like Theo  _ had _ done everything on purpose  _ but _ not intended to pull the rug from under Stiles's feet. 

He would deal with that thought later.

Stiles bit his lip sheepishly, repeating Theo's outburst in his head and clasping on a particular odd detail. With all innocent curiosity, he asked. "Who's  _ that _ ?"

Theo sighed emphatically, sagging in his pillows as if the conversation with Stiles was sucking all his energy. Considering his condition, it was probably the case. He looked at Stiles for a long moment as if he was looking at a foreign object, mouth slightly agape. He breathed out a scoff that sounded a mix of disbelief and amusement while he shook his head slowly.

He blew another tired breath, licking his lips. He wasn't smiling, but his mouth twitched, so Stiles would take that as a sign that his previous rise was already dissipating. "Durmstrang's founder,"

Stiles mulled over the information, "You also use famous witches and wizards' names to swear?"

Theo shrugged, "I don't, usually. I picked up the habit from you,"

Stiles scrubbed at his cheeks to hide the slight blush he knew he was sporting from the casual way he admitted it. Was it normal for that to happen - just picking up mannerisms from random people? He wasn't even in Hogwarts for  _ two months _ . Stiles cleared his throat, "Yeah, so, um, thanks. For, you know, flying in front of a bludger for me. Even though it was incredibly daft." He murmured the last bit in afterthought.

"It's fine," Theo bobbed his head to the side. "So, I guess we lost." There was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. 

Stiles nodded, adjusting his posture, "One hundred seventy against ten,"

"And a few broken bones," Theo added wryly. 

Stiles's lips curled, "I guess I owe you one." 

It was too late to retract the statement when he realized what he had said. He snapped his eyes to Theo, and Stiles knew the Durmstrang had also picked up on the mistake.

Theo's cocky demeanor resurfaced with a vengeance, "I guess you do," he agreed solemnly, blinking up to him and grinning triumphantly. "I know just how to  _ collect _ ."

There was no evading, Theo, was there?

***

Stiles ended up taking Malia as a date to the Yule Ball. 

Theo had accepted that their team's defeat in the Quidditch game meant he could not ask Stiles to be his date anymore as agreed. It was a  _ fair _ game, and Theo recognized that. However, like a masterful manipulation that would send Slytherins running for their money, Stiles fell into Theo's trap all the same. 

Seeing as Stiles  _ owed _ Theo for saving him - Merlin, Stiles had been so  _ careless _ to throw that line away to someone like Theo who latched on to any way he could find - the Durmstrang would cash in the debt with one dance in the ball. All of those theatrics only for Stiles to end up where Theo wanted him to be. It was stupendously frightful, if not mystifyingly impressive.

_ One _ dance couldn't hurt, though, right? 

"You okay?"

He snapped to awareness when Malia spoke. She sent him a toothy smile. Stiles returned the gesture, "Yeah. I was thinking about the party, you know, in the Common Room. " he lied.

"It'll go as smoothly as usual," She waved a dismissive hand. "For now, survive waltzing with me first."

Stiles laughed and instantly felt less agitated.

Once, when they were naive and desperate to experience the perks of being a teenager, they tried to start a relationship that was rooted purely in sexual attraction. It worked for a while, but they mutually agreed to separate. It was good while it lasted; they both lost their virginities like every hormonal youth that wanted to get rid of it, discovered what they liked and disliked in relationships, lost the spark and broke up, and branched out to broader horizons. No hard feelings. They were better off as friends, anyway.

They were outside the Great Hall, waiting for the grand entrance of the Triwizard Tournament entourage front-lined by the champions and their dates. Stiles felt jittery; he just wanted not to step on anyone's foot tonight.

His eyes darted forward, and, as if moved by an invisible force, found Theo's. The Durmstrang boy was wearing their school's formal scarlet dress robes with a plush brown fur coat to match. He was wearing boots and ditched the fur hat that came with the set - and he looked gorgeous. Honestly, Theo would look dashing even in rags, so. 

He gave Stiles a small playful smile, but the curves on the edges of his eyes were soft. He tipped his head to the side and  _ winked _ . What an  _ asshole _ . As soon as he had regrown his bones, he was back to his audacious, self-absorbed self. Thus, putting Stiles in a permanent state of disarray. 

He messed Stiles so badly the Slytherin couldn't find a way to disentangle. Whatever Theo was doing, he was doing it well. Theo was like a muggle quicksand: sucking Stiles in, and the more he struggled out, the quicker he sank deeper.  _ Fun thoughts _ .

Tracy's gloved arm came up around one of Theo's arms, and their contact instantly terminated. Stiles averted his interest to a glowing Allison who was holding Isaac Lahey's hand. The Slytherin busied himself praising how good they matched and pointedly strayed away from the Durmstrang's line of sight. He would not deal with Theo yet.

He had an entire night to suffer that.

***

And, Merlin, did he suffer.

He was at the table with a few other Slytherins, the party in motion when it happened. 

A few pairs were scattered on the dance floor, swaggering to the music. Most of the people were at their respective dinner tables, chatting with friends, praising each other's dress robes, parading their dates. Others loitered by the buffet and refreshments stand, helping themselves with the ridiculous amount of dishes served.

Stiles had mercifully survived the opening waltz with Malia - stepping her foot only once, which was a tremendous  _ achievement _ . He swore he'd never dance again.

But, of course, Theo would be the one to make Stiles turn on his promise no matter how half-hearted they were. 

He amid an argument about party logistics ("You had an underaged  _ Hufflepuff _ get  _ alcohol _ supplies for us?" "He had muggle connections." "Stiles, so do I!" "Erica, your suppliers are corrupt. I spent way fewer galleons for way more drinks with Mason's associates." "Well, did you,  _ at least _ , manage to include nachos in the menu this year?" " _ Please _ . And even those little orange bags with a laughing spotted cat in the package.") when Theo crossed the room to his table and ever so charmingly laid his hand down in offer.

Stiles heard the precise moment when the pin dropped in the ballroom. It was like everything narrowed down to Theo's hand. The Durmstrang even managed to leave his attitude behind because he only stood patiently with hopeful eyes - as if expecting Stiles to deny him what he owed.

It felt like the entire Great Hall forgot to breathe - Stiles almost did. His heart was galloping, his breathing stunted, and his middle coiling in nerves. It was always bound to catch some attention.  _ One _ : a Durmstrang student and a Hogwarts student dancing together were likely to start a gossip just on principle.  _ Two _ : they were both Triwizard champions, which, similarly, was a top-shelf topic that sounded like the beginning of a cliche romance novel of the classic enemies to lovers trope. And  _ three _ : Stiles was not ignorant about the rumors spreading like wildfire in Hogwarts ever since the Quidditch game. Like Erica had said to him earlier, no one may have confronted the subject outright, but that didn't mean that no one was discussing behind their asses. To be fair, they hadn't been subtle either. Just the fact that they sat with each other since the  _ first night _ \- some bond connecting them - was controversial already. And, well, it didn't help that Theo was a cosmic flirt, but only to Stiles.

That said, he opted to get beyond the whole ordeal. He huffed a breath and stood from his seat. It was only polite to accept Theo's hand and smile back. The Durmstrang's eyes flickered in surprise for a moment, but he masked it quickly by dipping his head and kissing his knuckles. Right. Straight onto feeding the rumor mill with a hefty amount of materials.

Theo moved them to the middle that - as if premeditated - was suddenly unoccupied. Stiles avoided meeting anybody's eyes aside from his partner, which was a difficult feat when he could feel they were surrounded by prying sightseers every which way he turned. 

The dance itself was manageable; they traced the same steps they performed in the opening, and Stiles was confident he wasn't going to step on Theo this time. They were - Stiles didn't know how to phrase it - in sync, in perfect rhythm, attuned to each other? How ironic was that when he kept watching his feet earlier, he lost his balance, but when his eyes rested on Theo's, every move felt routine?

Maybe it was also because Theo mostly led him. The Durmstrang boy glided and twirled like he'd been doing it all his life (he probably had, considering the social functions his family always attended and hosted), and Stiles was just there, being swept away by the current.

When the music signaled its end, the two stood watching each other, slightly breathless, marveling at the performance they had just given. It all came back to Stiles - he hadn't even realized he lost himself at the moment - when a chorus of applause erupted from their audience. Stiles remembered himself then - the  _ situation _ , the  _ location _ \- and turned to see the reactions.

The majority seemed to be fascinated by what just happened. Many stood to clap hands, some gaped, a few wolf-whistled (Stiles didn't even have to think: it came from the Slytherins), and one  _ didn't _ enjoy - at this point, Stiles didn't even care for Tracy anymore. She'd always be unhappy with Stiles, and it wasn't his responsibility to turn that appraisal around.

Headmistress Hale was among the attendees who got up their seats to cheer. She was beaming at Stiles when she walked over to them, still standing in the middle of an otherwise empty dance floor, elated by the turn of events.

"The essence of the Yule Ball," she had both hands on Theo and Stiles. "And the Triwizard Tournament is to spread positivity and promote unity despite the myriad of differences amongst the students. I am very pleased to have seen that displayed especially by the school's champions'," she glanced down at them and then to Allison, who was mingling with the Ravenclaws in one of their tables. "By being chosen, these students unknowingly became models to the others. I haven't doubted it, but I must say the Goblet of Fire  _ knew _ how to select them."

The Hall echoed in applauses again, and it went on for a few minutes. Professor Hale found their little performance inspiring and adorable it appeared.

Theo escorted him back to their place where his friends were all-teeth-out in smiling. Erica winked at him knowingly, and Stiles fought hard to tone down the violent red coloring his cheeks. 

"Thank you," Stiles said graciously, turning to the Durmstrang. He avoided looking at Theo's eyes for too long because everything was just  _ too intense _ for the past hour. He couldn't wait for the ball to be over so he could resign to the Slytherin Common Room and make stupid decisions  _ there _ \- in the safety of the dungeons - far from Theo.

But, of course, that was too much to ask.

Before Theo could say anything, Erica piped in with her big, troublesome mouth. "You should invite Theo to the party Stiles." 

Stiles quickly darted his eyes around to see if any non-Slytherins - or, Merlin forbid, teaching staff - heard her. He hissed at her, " _ Shut up _ , Erica, oh my god."

The blond only rolled her eyes at his paranoia and looked past him to Theo. "You should come. It's going to be great,"

Theo replied with a little frown, "There's another one besides this?"

"Don't listen to her," Stiles hastily interrupted, spinning to him once more. "It's nothing."

"Come on, Stiles." That was Malia, supporting her good-for-nothing best friend. "It'll be fun."

"It'll be just as  _ fun _ without Theo," he gritted out in annoyance. The reason Slytherin parties thrived throughout the years was that no one outside of the House ever got invited - not even the few people that knew about it and swore their confidence. That was the  _ cardinal rule, _ and they were offhandedly breaking it for Theo Raeken of all people. "Ignore them, okay? The butterbeer might have addled their brains."

Theo's lips curled in amusement.  _ No _ , he wanted to whine. Theo and that smirk never bode well on Stiles. "You have secret parties conducted in your Common Room?"

He started to deny again, but Jackson drawled from the next table. "Save it, Stilinski," he looked up and shook his head in disapproval. "There's no point in denying it when you're so obvious. Salazar Slytherin is rolling in his grave right now with how tremendously embarrassing you are, tainting our House's immaculate stealth record."

His face and neck were warm as he shot the other boy a withering look. Everyone was so  _ useless _ right now. 

"How could you even pull it off?"

Malia readily supplied an answer, "Stiles was a Prefect and then the Headboy." She puffed her chest boastfully as if that explained it.

"You know what they say about Slytherins?" Erica appended excitedly. " _We learn the rules so we can break them properly_. Stiles learns them and breaks them for us like the perfect serpent he is."

Theo nodded, looking very impressed.

" _ Fine _ ," he yielded, pinching the bridge of his nose. Theo found the whole thing  _ exhilarating _ if the glittering in his eyes was anything to read. Stiles said his next words with extreme reluctance. "If you'd like, you can come. It starts past midnight, after my post-curfew round." 

When he finally met the Durmstrang's eyes, the arrogant slant of his lips was more conspicuous. Stiles was once again in the position of indecisiveness. He could punch him in the mouth or kiss him senseless to rumple that demeanor - both were appealing but improper. So he settled with a  _ dignified _ exhalation.

Theo eyed him meaningfully. "I won't miss it for anything,"

***

They made it to the Common Room an hour past the end of the Yule Ball. Stiles made his rounds first before meeting the Durmstrang boy by the castle entrance and leading him down flights of marble steps down to the Slytherin Dungeons. 

Stiles wouldn't admit it, but his hands were clammy the entire trip. He felt like he was letting Theo infiltrate the one place in Hogwarts that was the safest for Stiles - like Stiles was unknowingly giving this boy more munitions against him as if he didn't have enough of that yet. Stiles was showing him  _ his world, _ and it was precarious how combined with his trepidation was this euphoria whirring in the pit of his subconscious. 

Stiles had gone bonkers;  _ that _ was the explanation. He was still Head Boy, the authority, and it was  _ his _ ass in the front of the line should complications arise following this rule-bending tradition-breaking stunt of bringing strangers over - not Erica's, nor Malia's. He could plant his feet firmly on this matter, and they would have to concede defeat. As it was, his feet weren't steady in the ground, so it seemed. Theo had always managed to shake his stability even when he didn't intend it.

They didn't speak much on the way; Stiles was too preoccupied in his inner self-berating, and Theo engrossed in the things he saw. At one point, Stiles had to stop by a group of portraits hanging in one of the corridors. They were all rather fond of him, so he whispered, conspiratorial, how he would appreciate it if they'd abstained from passing the information to other portraits about seeing a Durmstrang student admitted into the Slytherin room.

One of the portraits, a former Slytherin wizard, had waved a hand. "He would have been Slytherin, anyway, if he went here. I could tell." Yes, Stiles  _ could tell _ , too. He thanked them and continued to the final turn. Theo was thrilled and self-satisfied at being called a Slytherin; that it would make no difference inviting him to the den when he was one of them. 

They stopped by a bare stretch of stone walls: the entrance to the Common Room. Theo stared in question until Stiles murmured the password _ serpens superbiae, _ and a passage opened. The boy was confused at the casual reveal of the password, so Stiles explained how it changed every fortnight.

The party was in full swing when they entered. The Common Room, a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs and covered with tapestries of Medieval Slytherins, was full of students playing games, eating from the food table, drinking, talking, and dancing to the music from a magical radio. The room extended partway under the Black Lake, giving the light in the place a greenish tinge. The leather sofas were all occupied, and students from the fourth year up crowded the area.

Theo was immediately whisked away by the overeager duo of Erica and Malia to welcome and parade him around like a trophy. Stiles was only glad to get the boy off his back even for a few minutes because Merlin knew he needed to breathe air that didn't smell like Theo to clear his mind.

He picked up a cup of firewhiskey and gladly rendered distance from their visitor. A few were glancing at Theo with apprehension, but no one had said anything. He came in with Stiles, and they trusted  _ him _ \- he was, after all, the reason the party was plausible - so they either ignored Theo completely or tried blending with him. Surprisingly - and unsurprisingly - most opted to approach and say hi. Theo's presence was commonplace to the Slytherins, so they had most likely spoken by now. Whatever, as long as they kept Theo occupied. All of this constant nearness to him was fogging Stiles's mind.

It didn't take long for the boy to gravitate back towards him, however, because that was just Stiles's fate. He thought his post was covered enough, but  _ no _ , not to him. He couldn't  _ avoid _ Theo - the boy was inevitable.

He handed Stiles another cup as soon as Hayden vacated her earlier space beside him. Stiles was standing by one of the enchanted windows overlooking the depths of the Black Lake, watching as dark figures swam by, to and fro. 

"You Slytherins are a gutsy bunch, aren't you?" Theo broke the silence, standing very close to Stiles that he was hyper-aware of the warmth coming from the other boy. Stiles had accustomed himself to the cold in the dungeons, so feeling this kind of electrified heat was making Stiles short-breathed.

He continued staring ahead, "Nope. Those are Gryffindors."

Theo chuckled, "Gryffindors are  _ courageous _ ; you people are the  _ rebellious _ kind."

"Hm,"

His voice dipped, almost like sharing a secret, "It's making me more attracted to you."

Stiles's breath faltered as he sensed the stroke of hot air at the back of his neck when Theo touched closer behind him. One of his hands came up to rest on Stiles's hip, tentative, barely touching. The Durmstrang boy blew another whiff that set loose goosebumps on Stiles's damp skin that impaired his resolve. Stiles was tipsy, and Theo was intoxicating. Something was bound to give.

When Stiles didn't draw away, Theo was emboldened and plastered the whole length of his body on Stiles's backside. The ghost of a touch on his hip was now a firm grip. The breathing was now mouthing on his nape. "You looked so good in your dress robes, by the way."

_Merlin, and all great witches and wizards -_ if there had been questions about their involvement, Stiles was pretty sure they just answered it. They were in public, _dear Salazar,_ no matter if it was behind a banner and a mantelpiece, and Stiles was baring his neck wantonly for another kiss. It was the firewhiskey - it was the alcohol's fault because _what_ _else_ deserved the blame?

His eyes fluttered to a close when Theo twined his arm to his middle and pulled him to his body - right to the  _ hard _ planes that made up Theo. His treacherous self shuddered, and there might have been a small moan that followed. It was all shameful acts. Thankfully - unfortunately - the moment was shattered when Theo flung back with a surprised yelp.

" _ What the- _ " 

Stiles spun around to see what transpired and found Theo  _ drenched _ with something that smelled sour and gross. They both looked up at the giggling coming from their right. 

_ Jackson _ and his cronies were doubling over in amusement. Stiles spied the enchanted liquor bubble in his hands - bought from  _ Zonko's Joke Shop _ , of course - and leveled the boy with a scathing stare. "Seriously, Jackson? Exploding  _ vinegar _ schnapps?"

"Oops," The boy replied insincerely. "I didn't know it was going to hit your boyfriend."

Theo was growling a little with barely contained fury. More provocation and Theo would rage on Jackson. Stiles had to avert the crisis, or his earlier concern of complications might become real. Stiles grabbed Theo's wrist, sending one last glower at Jackson. "You're such a  _ fetus _ , Jackson."

To put the much-needed distance between the two, Stiles led Theo blindly to the boys' dormitories and into his room. When the door closed behind them, Stiles marched to his trunk and started searching, all the while still grumbling, mind imagining ways he could strangle Jackson for his infantile behavior.

He only remembered himself when he felt Theo coming up behind. He promptly froze in realization, eyes widening. Stiles brought the boy who was on his way to worshipping Stiles's neck and rubbing his hardness on him  _ into his conveniently empty room _ where Stiles slept and where there was a four-poster present for their disposal. He shot up to his feet abruptly and shoved the jumper to the boy's chest, who scrambled to take it in surprise, and practically flew many feet away to establish distance  _ between them _ once more. Jackson's antics sobered Stiles a little but did an inadequate job at weaning his arousal. If Theo touched and kissed him again, Stiles's dignity and shame would go down the drain with him.

Stiles cleared his throat, gesturing at the article of clothing in Theo's hands. "You can, uh, you can change into that." He swallowed and rubbed at his face to avoid eye contact. "A drying spell would not work on your clothes yet; the downside of the explosive liquor bubble."

Theo's previous irk had thankfully died down rather quickly. He didn't move for a moment, just stared at Stiles, who was flinging his hands around and shifting positions now and then, unmistakably attempting to derail from their previous intimacy. Stiles kept his sight elsewhere, choosing to arrange the little mess in his bedside drawer to tarry.

Theo began stripping, taking his time with every button, never once looking away. Stiles knew that Theo was conscious of the rich redness in his face down to his collarbone that had nothing to do with the alcohol anymore. The usual icy feeling of the dormitories was gone. Stiles was sweating profusely inside and out. One little touch from the walking furnace that was Theo Raeken was going to roast him bone-deep. It was all very overwhelming.

With all of his buttons undone, Theo took off his top and delayed. It was still and silent in the room for about a whole minute. Finally, Stiles chanced a glance his way. "You should-" Breath hitching in the middle of his damned sentence was  _ so not cool _ . "-get dressed now, Theo, for the love of all things magic."

Theo had the cheek to chuckle at Stiles's misery. Stiles was so annoyed with himself he could probably rant in front of the mirror until the morning. The Slytherin caught sight of the golden wings locket from the First Task that was kept hidden inside his drawer for the meantime and picked it up as an excuse to walk over to the full-body mirror. In the reflection, he saw himself - red-tinged and  _ still _ aroused - and cursed under his breath.

Closing his eyes to reel in his embarrassment, he locked the necklace around his neck and scrutinized it in the mirror. Peripherally, he could see that the Durmstrang boy had finally put on the stupid jumper and covered all that skin and muscle away from Stiles's face. He discreetly breathed a sigh of relief, fiddling with the wing pendant.

"Did you crack the clue?"

Stiles startled a little at the sound of his voice but inhaled and exhaled deeply to gather his wits again. "Not yet. It won't open to a spell."

Theo walked closer, eyes leveled on the reflection of the pendant. "Are those runes?"

Stiles looked down at the necklace and nodded. "Yeah. There are three of them."

"Hm,"

Stiles pursed his lips hesitantly. Theo would probably not take offense if he didn't offer any more information, but Stiles also wanted to remove the electricity still crackling in the air. Engaging was the way, not that Theo could piece up concrete clues from the tidbits that Stiles had managed to gather. 

"One word per magical rune," he continued, touching each rune as he described it. "There's one for ' _ heart _ ' and then ' _ hear _ ' and ' _ want or desire _ ' - I still have to clear that third one and run a rune check in the library because these are old stuff. Not that I think it would make much difference; they'd most likely allude to the same thing." By the time he finished, his throat had stopped plugging in. Yes, talking was helping. 

Theo hummed in thought, watching the necklace. "Based on the positioning of the runes, I think the word  _ hear _ comes first before the  _ heart, _ so it's  _ hear-heart-desire _ ." He said, moving to touch the locket and observe it closer.

Stiles was a little surprised about Theo's input that he didn't mind the proximity. He was too distracted with the way his brows creased together in a diligent study of the symbols. "There's an interpretation of the positioning of the runes?"

He nodded, "Yeah. We learned about it in  _ Cursed Artefacts Studies _ in Durmstrang," he reached from his pocket for something and came up bearing his dark red wand. "I know a counter-curse," he peered up to Stiles, darting his eyes down to the Slytherin's lips once - prompting Stiles once more that Theo had managed to close their distance  _ effortlessly _ \- and back up to his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Stiles took a second to reply, "Are you saying this is a cursed artifact?"

"Technically, no. But ancient magic is identified as cursed because of its potency."

Well, this was a remarkable development. Stiles couldn't help but see Theo in some different light. He pondered, "So this counter-curse is," he paused, trying to search for a euphemism. 

Theo nodded, understanding his question. " _ Dark arts _ ," he supplied kindly. "Our wands don't have the same casting restrictions. And you already know I'm equipped with it. It's part of my charm, right?" He curled his lips dryly.

Stiles scoffed lightly, "What does it do?"

A shoulder lifted in a half-shrug, "Basically rune translation. The result might still be a riddle, but maybe it'll help you more."

The questions  _ why are you doing this, _ and  _ what's your motive _ were on the tip of his tongue; they  _ honestly _ were. It was an automatic response to anything remotely decent that Theo was doing because Stiles was stubborn like that. He couldn't shake the feeling that Theo was withholding something that was influencing his actions.

At least, Stiles was a bit confident now that Theo would never hurt him on purpose - he trusted him with that. Besides, if the Durmstrang boy planned on sabotaging the clue for the Second Task, it wouldn't deter Stiles to find  _ other _ ways. Finally, he relaxed and took the jewelry from his neck into Theo's waiting hand.

The Durmstrang looked soothed, probably expecting more fight and outright refusal from Stiles. He thought about it, but Theo seemed genuinely knowledgeable with the runes and the object that it was better risking it. Stiles could maybe learn a thing or two from Theo's expertise on Dark Arts since he was mostly specializing on its defenses.

Stiles watched raptly as the Durmstrang pointed the tip of his wand and muttered nothing but a black flash shot out of the wood anyway and shrouded the locket like an aura for about five whole seconds before getting absorbed.

They both waited while Stiles tried to process the fact that it was probably the first time he saw Theo do any real, impressive, unfamiliar magic and that it was breath-taking to watch. In particular, because it was dark magic, and it had a different, surprisingly pleasant, low thrumming to it - utterly void of the harmful shock he was expecting.

Astoundingly, encryptions on the side started appearing as the object vibrated in Theo's hand. When it was over, Stiles rounded on his side to inspect it. The message was this: άκου επιθυμία της καρδιάς

"It's Greek," Theo concluded.

Just when Stiles thought he couldn't be more bewildered tonight, Theo said things like this. "You  _ know _ Greek?"

Theo snorted, not at all affronted by the incredulous tone on his voice. "We don't always practice mutilating, and maiming, and killing over at Durmstrang, Stiles. We  _ read _ those myths and lores of the elderly times."

The Slytherin sent him a deadpan look.

He chuckled, "Yes, I know Greek, and the literal translation of the message is:  _ listen to the desire of the heart _ . Insightful, don't you reckon?"

Stiles chose to ignore the quip. "So still a riddle."

Theo shrugged, returning the locket to Stiles. "Yes. But a clearer one. You're clever; you'll figure it out."

Stiles sniffed and turned back to the mirror as he re-fastened the trinket. " _ Listen to the desire of the heart _ ," he quoted, squinting in the mirror. It sounded vaguely familiar to his ears somehow. " _ Listen to the desire of- _ "

Stiles's eyes widened as he straightened and gasped. He rotated rapidly to a startled Theo.

"I think I know something that might help," he said in a rush, adrenaline racing to his veins. " _ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _ ."

Theo blinked, "What's that?"

" _ I show not your face but your heart's desire _ ," Stiles rephrased. "If we want it enough, it might help us."

Theo was still confused, "What might?"

Stiles grinned, excited for the possibility that he was right. No, he  _ knew _ he was right. He trusted his gut with these things.

"The  _ Mirror of Erised _ , of course." Stiles supplied, blazing with enthusiasm even at two in the morning - even when he was technically teaming up with a rival. "We have to go to the Room of Requirement."

Theo was unable to reply as Stiles maneuvered them out of the dormitory in record time.

~•~


End file.
